


August

by Kabi



Series: November [4]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Adventure, Alternate History, Arranged Marriage, CarrierVerse, Dubious Consent, Forced Marriage, Gender Issues, Genetics, M/M, Mpreg, Romance, Science
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-23
Updated: 2012-01-16
Packaged: 2017-10-23 23:27:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 51
Words: 112,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/256276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kabi/pseuds/Kabi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a sterility plague has nearly extincted mankind, a few men begin to manifest a rare and unpredictable ability to bear children. As everyone struggles to rebuild, these Carriers try to find their own identity in a changing world - and become the targets of a desperate society.</p><p>For former professor Phidias Alexander and his son Cadmus, the Change means traveling away from everything they know, moving halfway across the globe to the home of wealthy businessman Henrik Angstrom and the wild unknown of the Arabian desert. Transitioning into a world of captured brides, arranged marriages, unimaginable luxury, political machinations and mysterious scientists, Phidias slowly comes to know himself - and comes to question his powerful and enigmatic husband.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. January: Week One

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.

**January: Week One**

"Dad? Dad?! DAD!"  
The yelling became more frantic as Caddy ran for the stairs, nearly tripping over himself in the process, his hand cradled tight against himself. Where was his dad? This couldn't be happening, couldn't be going on. It felt so out of place, so wrong, so terrifyingly real...

"DAAAD!" he wailed; instantaneously, his father appeared from around a corner.  
"Caddy! Caddy, it's OK, Caddy, I'm here. I'm right here - what happened to you?! What's wrong?!"

Caddy looked up at his father's terrified face, and he tried to make it to him, he really did, but halfway he was struck by the pain, and the fear, and utter miserable hopelessness of it all. He, Cadmus, 14 years old last month, catcher of frogs and fearless investigator of stray dogs and basements, only son of his father,  
spitting image of his mother - he suddenly decided to give up. Caddy stopped where he was, 7 steps down on the way to the first floor, dropped onto the ground, and cried. Phidias was losing his head, but he tried to stay calm, for Caddy's sake.  
"Caddy, talk to me. Tell me what happened. Caddy! What's wrong, what's going on?!"  
Phidias asked his son, kept asking him, but between the way Cadmus was crying and the way he'd held himself before he collapsed, Phidias pretty much already knew. His stomach sank.  
"My - my-" Between sobs, it became clear. Phidias took Caddy into his arms, readjusting his glasses where Caddy knocked them sideways with the embrace.  
"OK. OK. It's OK. Hush. Look, Dad's going to go call the doctor now."

Caddy shook his head furiously, hazel eyes red and curly brown hair disheveled from sleep.  
"Noo! No, Dad, no, please, you can't! Dad, don't!"  
Phidias paused.  
"Caddy, we have to."  
Caddy started to sob again.  
"NO! No, no, no, no! Dad, no, please don't do that, please don't call them!"  
Phidias sat down on the step beside his son.  
"Caddy, you're sick."  
"I'm not sick!"  
"And a doctor will help you feel better."

Caddy shook his head. His face was red from the pain and crying. Phidias tried to reason with him.  
"I can't take the pain away, but if I call the doctor, he can."  
"No, Dad, no, don't call him, please."  
Caddy looked up at him, the little round face - the skin so smooth, features so delicate, so identical to his mother.  
"I don't want to be a carrier, Dad, I don't. I want to be a boy. Please, please, please don't call anybody."

Caddy was getting hysterical again, and Phidias didn't know how to stop it, so he just let the sobs build, let the phrases repeat themselves until Cadmus wore himself out and collapsed against his arm, crying and begging for his father to keep quiet, fear broadcasting even through the fatigue.

When Caddy had finished crying himself out a bit, Phidias picked him up, lifting his son like a small child to carry him back up the stairs to his bedroom. He laid Caddy down on the bed Phidias had purchased for him so long ago, when Caddy had just begun to outgrow his small bed. He'd gone down to the furniture store - to the retailer's warehouse and picked around and puttered and mulled until he'd found just the right one. He'd bought it on sight; no haggling, no asking questions - his head had been filled, upon seeing it, with images of just the man the little boy who slept in this bed would become.  
It was big. Emily had complained that it was too big - "So much bed for such a small child!" - but she had smiled just the same and said that if Caddy loved it, she would too.  
"Big bed for big dreams," Phidias had retorted, then drew her over to him and kissed her. "He will always feel safe in this bed, at least. He couldn't ever get big enough to roll out of it." Emily had laughed, the sound of her voice tinkling like chimes in the small painted room. Phidias missed her.

Caddy rolled over onto his stomach now, and Phidias rubbed his back. As he rubbed, he let his eyes wander Caddy's room. The room was still painted as it had been since Cadmus was a child - two walls navy blue, one wall green, one wall with a soccer mural from ceiling to floor. Emily had painted that, and Phidias had been so impressed to watch her - she had worked for weeks, first drawing, sketching with pencils, changing, tweaking, going back ten times over before finally deciding that the concept was done. Then she'd begun to paint it. He remembered watching that wall, once so white and gray with vague, abstract lines, burst into color and form and shape once Emily took her hand to it. He'd been so moved by her work, by her form and her shape and her art and her love, that he had wanted to cry.

Staring at that mural-wall now, Phidias wondered if perhaps it was time to change it. Caddy didn't even like soccer anymore, and surely the room one had as a child wasn't supposed to be the room one kept forever. He mulled over this concept for a minute. There should be some changing, some new climate, some marker of the coming of age that we all had to experience. He had, in his short 37 years of life, studied extensively and written formal papers on no less than 17 different coming-of-age ceremonies, in 12 cultures all across the world. There were certain things that were common, appearing in each: the ceremonies were always a representation of transition, a celebration of the metamorphosis that seemed to happen overnight. They always focused on looking forward, to the future - nobody liked to dwell on the past.

On the bed, under his hand, Caddy's small form still wracked with shivers; his son kept crying. Phidias' heart ached for him. What have we done, Phidias wondered, how could we have gone so wrong? Why did we make a world where something so beautiful would incite such fear?

He rubbed his hand between Caddy's shoulder blades, tickled the nape of his neck, the little tuft of hair.  
"Just sleep, Caddy. Sleep. Sleep, and when you wake up, we'll decide what to do."  
Caddy nodded.  
"Do you want me to stay here for now?"  
Caddy nodded vigorously. Phidias settled into his spot. Suddenly, Caddy flipped over, and a small hand clenched tight around his father's wrist.  
"Dad? I really don't want to be a carrier. I really, really, really don't."  
Phidias looked at him for a long moment.  
"We'll see, Caddy. We'll see what we can do."


	2. January: Week Two

At the Carrier Education Centre, they were entered into the database by a very kind, androgynous intake nurse. Phidias couldn't help but stare a little at the nurse's appearance - he was obviously a carrier, a very beautiful one, and his femme-homme beauty was entrancing to watch. Phidias didn't see many carriers in his line of work; the kind of science he did, studies of language and culture, were not deemed critical enough to allow carriers to work in the field. Carriers practicing as doctors, as highly trained psychologists, as skilled engineers - well, that was one thing. But carrier anthropologists? Now that was just a perfectly good waste of valuable pregnancy time.

Phidias watched the man for a minute, moving efficiently about his task. His fingers flew over the keyboard; the black curls of his hair shimmered as he turned back and forth between consoles and papers. Phidias found him beautiful.

He wondered about him, imagined him in another life, perhaps the one he'd had before this...thing had come upon him. Had he been a writer then? A soldier? Perhaps a teacher in some small Academy school. Phidias found himself lost in this line of thought, pondering the man's life, and so he was caught a little bit off-guard when, after a few minutes, the nurse smiled up at Phidias and spoke.

"Dr. Alexander, Cadmus's file is all set up. I'll be handing you both a copy of the intake procedures, his schedule for today and the next month, and some preliminary information about where he'll be housed here, and the rules of the Centre."

The nurse stood then, smiling at Phidias first, then extending his hand to Caddy.

"Hi, Cadmus. We're very glad to have you here. Welcome to the CEC."  
Caddy didn't answer, just elegantly burst into hysterical tears.


	3. January: Week Three

"So how are we feeling this morning, Cadmus?"

The bed dipped as Adrian, Caddy's group leader sat down on the right edge of it. Caddy shrugged and continued to stare at the wall. A moment of silence passed, and he realized that Adrian was still waiting for an answer.

"It's - I'm alright, I guess."  
Adrian waited. Caddy wiped his eyes.  
"I don't want to go to the doctor anymore."

Adrian put one hand soothingly on his shoulder and rubbed it, and Caddy felt that familiar homesickness rise up again; he longed for the hand that touched him to be familiar, to be his father's gentle rub. Adrian was nice, and Adrian was kind, but Adrian wasn't his dad.

"I know, Caddy, but we talked about this, remember? We agreed that if I made it so that if you go today, you don't have to go anymore for at least another month, then you would be OK with that. And remember - if you go today, you might find out that you don't need to take the shots anymore because your change could be pretty much done."   
That just made Caddy start to tremble.

"Caddy, what's wrong? You don't want to stop taking the shots?" Adrian frowned. "I know you hate them, and you say that they're uncomfortable."  
Caddy rubbed his eyes again.  
"But if I stop, then I'm going to change all the way."  
Adrian cooed and used his fingers to gently comb through the tangles in Cadmus' hair.

"Caddy. Listen to me. You were changing anyway. You're going to change anyway. The shots were just to regulate your hormones during the process. But they aren't in control of what happens to you."  
Caddy whimpered.  
"I just want to be a boy, Adrian."  
Adrian pulled the boy into a close hug, stretching bodily across Caddy as if he could protect him from something unseen.  
"I know, Caddy. But you're not."

~:~

Cadmus asked to have his dad present for his first full internal exam, but when his father arrived, Caddy immediately wished that he hadn't. Phidias entered the curtained room already looking bewildered, He seemed flustered, uncertain about anything that was going on; he kept glancing around nervously at the room, the equipment, the smiling carrier nurses. Adrian got up from the chair, where he had been sitting and holding Cadmus' hand, and went over to greet the older man.

"Dr. Alexander. A pleasure to see you again. Please, sit. Caddy's been waiting for you."

Adrian gestured towards the chair he'd inhabited earlier. Phidias looked around, still a bit discombobulated; after a moment, he shook Adrian's hand weakly and took the seat, offering Caddy a thin smile before taking up his son's hand.

"How're you feeling, Buster?"  
Caddy offered the same thin smile in return.  
"Scared." he answered, truthfully. Adrian stepped closer.  
"Dr. Alexander, what's going to happen today will be a very simple, very quick procedure. We've already taken some urine samples, his vitals and a little bloodwork; that will run while the exam is going on, and then Caddy can get his results before we leave here. In a minute, the doctor's going to come in, he's going to ask Caddy a few questions, then have Caddy lie on his back, and he's going to use his fingers - just his fingers, Caddy - to come in so that he can have a quick look inside Caddy's female organs. It won't be any different than your basic gynecological exam, and Caddy might feel some discomfort, but there shouldn't be any significant pain, and it'll all be over in five minutes or less, OK?"

Phidias nodded numbly. Caddy's hand slipped out of his grasp. Phidias felt out of place here. He had no understanding of any of this, no idea what was going on or what to say. On the table next to him were balloons, a stuffed grizzly bear, and a little wrapped gift. He stared at it for a minute. Was he supposed to bring a gift? Adrian noticed his gaze.

"It's become a bit of a tradition, here at the Centre, for our new carriers to receive a little present on the occasion of their first full exam or their Change completion. Whichever happens first." Adrian smiled at Caddy. "Do you want to open yours now or after?"  
Caddy picked pieces of lint off the hospital blanket with his trembling hands and didn't look at his dad.  
"After, please."  
Adrian nodded, smiled warmly, and stepped aside.  
"OK."

Over Adrian's shoulder, another nurse entered, smiling eagerly at Cadmus, and Caddy's eyes went to her. Adrian turned to follow his gaze, and the nurse signaled that they were ready, if he was. Adrian turned back to Caddy.

"The doctor's here. You going to be OK?"  
Before Cadmus could answer, the doctor breezed in. He was a solidly built man in a starched white lab coat.  
"Well!" his eyes scanned over Caddy. "Is this the patient?"

Caddy couldn't speak, and nodded instead. The doctor looked over Phidias.  
"I'm sorry, sir, it's carriers only in this area."  
"I'm his father." Phidias replied, resolutely, looking evenly back at the man. The doctor processed this.  
"Very well. Let's get started."

The first half of the exam went smoothly enough; the doctor asked what felt like a hundred embarrassing questions, and Caddy answered all of them without looking at his father. It was strange, having his dad there, this poor, disoriented man in his small wire-rimmed glasses, staring at the whole scene with a look of vague horror, as if watching a car crash or a train wreck - something terrible that he had no power to stop. Caddy felt an itch of guilt for bringing him here, into this part of his life, into this part of his world. He should have just left him at the house, with its pretty painted walls and the dark wood wainscoting and all his thousands of books. Caddy was old enough to deal with this on his own. He answered a few more questions, then the doctor finished writing and closed the chart.

"OK." he said, and Caddy felt a little bit of dread well up like bile in the back of his throat. "Go on and sit back."

Adrian was watching from a place just behind the doctor, halfway leaning against the wall with two other carrier nurses, biting the polish off of his nails. Caddy looked to him for reassurance; he smiled and gave a short wave. Caddy scooted to the edge of the table as the doctor instructed him, then laid back. The ceiling above him was decorated, and it suddenly became clear to Caddy that the room was often used for this purpose. He imagined who had been on the table before him - was it Adrian? The nurse? Another kid, perhaps.

The doctor was coating his gloved fingers in something and then suddenly the blanket was up and the doctor was there and Caddy had enough time to register wetness, and then a stabbing pain. He cried out, and Adrian and his father appeared immediately, looking down on him from either side of his hospital bed. The doctor pulled his fingers away.

"Are you able to calm him down?" he asked in a voice that bordered on annoyance.  
"Maybe you should be more gentle." Phidias snapped, his nerves worn thin.

Adrian glanced at Caddy's father for a second, then back at his little ward. His black hair cascaded down around his face, seeming to fall towards Caddy, cloaking them both in shadows. Adrian tucked it behind one ear.

"Caddy, please. Now, we talked about this. If you just lie still and let him do it quick, it really won't hurt."  
Caddy shook his head, tears welling up again.  
"You said it wouldn't hurt, Adrian! You promised it wouldn't hurt!"  
Adrian nodded and laid a calming hand on Caddy's forehead.  
"I know, Caddy, I did, and I am doing everything in my power to fulfill that promise. But it only works if you work with me. If you get too tense, it's going to be uncomfortable, no matter what, OK? So please, calm down, alright?"

Phidias looked nervously at Caddy, then the doctor.  
"Maybe we should do this some other time - "  
"No!" Caddy was shaking his head, propping himself up on his elbows. "No, Dad, I'm fine. Please. I want to do it now." he wiped his eyes. "I just didn't expect it to feel so..." he glanced over at Adrian. "Uncomfortable."  
The doctor was looking skeptically up at his patient from his seat between the boy's legs.  
"Are you going to be able to sit still, Caddy?" he asked, tersely but not unkindly.  
Caddy nodded vigorously.  
"Because I don't want you to get upset while I'm examining you. Your tissue's new, Caddy, and I don't want to cause you any damage."  
Caddy shook his head.  
"I'll - I'll be fine."  
"You're sure?"  
"Yes."  
"Then lay back down."

He wasn't fine. But it was so close to being over when he freaked out the second time that the doctor simply ordered a chaperone to take Phidias out of the room, and had the nurses hold Caddy's legs still while he finished the exam anyway. Caddy had really lost it then, when he'd realized that they weren't letting him stop, weren't letting him get up or run away. But Adrian's face was there, in front of him, trying to talk to him and calm him down, and for some reason, that helped. Caddy almost cried out when the doctor pulled his fingers out, but Adrian was there again, looking at him so anxiously and so hopefully that Caddy felt too embarrassed to cry and disappoint him.

Afterwards, he sat shaking and clutched his stuffed grizzly bear, hanging on to the thing for dear life. His dad remained excluded from the room, pacing in the hall outside, and Adrian sat at the edge of his bed and dabbed at his face with a tissue while the doctor wrote his summary down in Caddy's chart. After a few minutes, he closed the file, handed it off to a nurse, and looked up at Adrian with irritation, and not a little amount of contempt.

"The carrier's fine. All systems are healthy."

Adrian exhaled a little, and quietly said his thanks, then got up to help Caddy get his stuff together. The doctor continued to watch them both, then suddenly spoke.

"Here's some advice, Adrian - talk to this boy about his new status in life. I barely even touched him and he's crying. If he can't take this, how the hell's he going to take a man?"


	4. February 2

He was supposed to go pick Caddy up today. Dr. Phidias Alexander had the date marked off on his calendar, circled in messy blue pen and starred so that he wouldn't forget. He couldn't have forgotten anyway. Visits home were only allowed every two weeks for the first four months, and now, waiting for his son's second visit home since he'd been enrolled at the CEC, Phidias realized that the two of them had never really been apart for this long. Not since Emily had died. He felt the usual tug at his heart when he thought of her - his Emily, so sweet, so perfect. So accepting, even at the last.

He moved on. Thoughts like that did no good to a man who still had two proposals to write and four letters to print before 5 o'clock. He glanced at his watch. Noon now. He should eat; it might soothe his stomach, which had been ill with the separation from Cadmus and the anxiety about all the work he had due.

He made his way down to the old, mechanical vending machines that were shared amongst the tenants of the building. Upon rounding the corner to put them in view, he came across Dr. Alan Long, the most senior member of the Cultural Research Institute staff, already standing there, contemplating a snack. At the footsteps, the older man turned, peering through his glasses at Phidias.

"Phil! No lunch again?"

Dr. Long had called him Phil since the day they'd met, and although Phidias was pretty sure that Alan knew by now that the name was wrong, they were long past the point of correction, and both just accepted it for what it was.

"Ah, been working on the Southern Territory Gender Stratification proposal, sir."  
Dr. Long grunted his assent and stepped to the side to allow Phidias to access the machine.  
"Hn. How's it coming?"

Phidias exhaled a little as he punched the numbers for a double pack of government-made cookies and a glass bottle of milk. The cookies always tasted a little bland, but Phidias didn't want to risk upsetting his stomach with richer food, and he figured them to be a good complement to the milk. The old machine grumbled as its mechanical gears cranked to deliver the treat. Vending machines such as this one were a common sight in government buildings; they'd become a cultural installation, a good source of income for the building managers, and an essential escape for employees sick of government lunches.

"It's going. But slow. The databases aren't what they used to be."  
Dr. Long nodded sympathetically.  
"Damn wars muck up all our good information. So busy trying to make scientists into warriors, the blasted government doesn't let us get anything done at all."  
With an indiscreet cough, the machine distributed his cookies and milk, the latter delivered in a little glass bottle which would have to be returned to the machine for later reuse. There was no room for waste these days.

Phidias took his food and turned to face Dr. Long, who was still standing, patiently watching him as if expecting something. Phidias glanced nervously away.  
"Something wrong, sir?"  
Dr. Long surveyed him.  
"How's your boy doing, Phil?"  
Phidias almost dropped his milk.  
"He's doing fine, sir. He - "  
"I hear the CEC can be a difficult place."  
Phidias swallowed again. So he knew.  
"Does everyone know, sir?"  
Dr. Long shrugged.  
"I'd suggest you make it clear as soon as possible that this change in your son's life in no way be a part of your relationship with your colleagues."  
At Phidias' confused look, he sighed heavily and explained.   
"I know we would like to imagine that this Institute is a community of compassionate scientists, men who are capable of making kind, ethical decisions. But the harsh truth, Dr. Alexander, is that deep down, underneath all the ethics and underneath all the training and underneath all the objective understanding, they are still just men."

Phidias' face shifted into alarm. Dr. Long clasped his hands together behind his back, pushing his prodigious stomach further forward.  
"Cadmus is a valuable commodity. They know you, so they think they have easy access to him. The wolves are howling in your fields, Phil. Time to bring the cattle in."  
Phidias furrowed his brow.  
"Well, Caddy's only 14, I don't think - "  
"I'd suppose you don't."  
Dr. Long drawled the words, making their meaning clear, giving them just the right thrust and momentum to horrify. Phidias couldn't answer for a minute, just breathed and thought about the awful nature of what had been implied.  
"But who? Who would...?"  
Long shrugged.  
"Cannot say for sure, Phil. But trust me, you'll see."

Phidias took a step back; the milk was getting warm from being clasped so tightly in his hand. His stomach felt rocky again. Dr. Long casually watched his retreat.  
"Decide now who your friends are, Phil. Because it won't be so easy farther down the line."


	5. February 8

He was so close to finishing. Phidias just had his proofreading left to do which, honestly, he felt was the worst part. Emily had always helped him with that - she was so good with the details - but she wasn't here now. Phid rubbed his eyes and stared at the screen. His stomach was a mess again; having Caddy home had been almost as stressful as it had been relaxing.

It had been a little over a month since his son had been enrolled at the CEC, and Phidias felt already as if entire chasms were opening up between them. Caddy, who had always been so open before, so forthcoming and outright, had suddenly become brooding, prone to mood swings and sulky moments that extended into hours. Adrian had warned him about this; he'd said that the hormones would be wreaking havoc on Caddy until they evened out. But Phidias felt that it was something quite more.

Perhaps part of it was the fact that there was now a gaping hole in his involvement in Caddy's life; an entire part of his son from which Phidias was entirely disconnected. Phid could sympathize with Caddy's experiences and troubles, of course, and listen and study and try to understand; but in a very fundamental way, their relationship had changed. The road which Cadmus now followed was one he'd have to walk alone; his father couldn't advise him. He'd have to go alone. And that felt like a strange, and frightening, and almost painful epiphany to have regarding one's 14 year old - how could Phidias let him go through this _alone_?

Phidias approached the last page. Not much longer. His stomach was giving him hell, and thinking about Caddy (who would by now be asleep in his own big bed) only made it worse. In fact, his entire abdomen ached, and Phidias decided that if the pain hadn't stopped by Sunday, he was most definitely going to the doctor. For now, though, Phidias kept typing.

~:~

Joseph Stern was the first traitor to show himself. He knocked on the door sometime around 3, sticking his head in to grin at Phidias before entering. Phidias raised one eyebrow. Joe Stern never knocked.

"Hey, Phid."  
Phidias regarded him with immediate suspicion; Dr. Long's warning was still fresh in his mind.  
"Hey."  
Joe came in, kicking his toes in a meandering kind of walk, and sat down on the edge of Phidias' desk. Phidias stared up at him in irritation. Joe Stern never sat in a chair, either.  
"Heard you've had some changes with your boy."

Joe Stern also never beat around the bush. Phidias pushed his chair back from the desk, disturbing his coffee so that it splashed, cool and sweet, down onto the dark wood and dripped off one drawer onto the floor.  
"I don't know what business that is of yours."  
Joe looked at him shrewdly.  
"You know, I've got a boy of my own."  
Phidias shook his head.  
"It's not happening, Joe. Phidias is a kid."  
Joe held up his hands in a defensive gesture.  
"So's Tom. He's only 27."

Joe might as well have said 'he's only a serial killer', for the look he got from Phidias.

"Get out of my office."   
"Phid - "  
"Get out!"  
Joe stood to leave, looking with a fair amount of irritation at Phidias.  
"Just consider it. Tom's good; he'll look after Caddy. God knows you need someone to help with that."  
Phidias seized up with anger.  
"I can damn well take care of my own son."  
Joe rolled his eyes.  
"Bullshit. You can't even take care of yourself." he began to head for the exit. "But I don't need to argue my case. You'll just come crying to me when he runs off with some drunk hillbilly or gets raped by some junior officer in the bushes on his way home."

Phidias, being a rather slightly built man, and one of a pretty calm and even constitution, had never been much interested in fighting. But, suddenly, right now, he very much wanted to punch the shit out of Joseph Stern.

"You get the _fuck_ out of my office before I throw you out."  
Joe cocked one eyebrow at him.  
"I'd like to see you try."

Phidias didn't even bother to go around the desk - he went over it, and landed a pretty solid punch on the side of Joe Stern's jaw, and Joe went for him and they both went down, tussling their way to the floor. Phidias had been slight all his life, and so was able to use his size to his advantage, ducking from Joe's ill-timed swings and grabs, putting the man off-balance until Phidias was able to land himself on top of him. He pinned Joe's arms with his legs and swung down, at his face, with both arms, blindly. He felt two punches land and then suddenly, as if pulling strength from nowhere, Joe moved them. He flipped Phidias off, kneeing his groin accidentally in the process, then landed him unceremoniously on the floor, on his side. His head scraped the desk, then cracked against the ground. For a minute, they were both still, just staring at each other across the uncrossable expanse of floor.

Then Dr. Alan Long burst in, his face red and tie askew.  
"And just what," he asked, taking in the spilt coffee, papers in disarray, and two men lying mussed on the floor, "in the good green _hell_ is going on here?"

~:~

"Sorry, Alan. Really, I am. It's just that he - he pushes my buttons, he always has. And today it got worse. He went off about Caddy."  
Alan Long furrowed his brow in concentration, busy examining Phidias' head wound. There was a long, but shallow gash on the right side of his face, and Long quietly rubbed some ointment into it.   
"I almost won." Phidias added sullenly, speaking more to himself than to Alan.  
Alan Long scoffed.  
"You almost got a concussion."  
Phidias scowled.

"He got one up on me. Don't know how. Must not have been paying attention - I should have been able to hold him."  
Dr. Long frowned and leaned closer in to Phidias' head wound.  
"I can't have my scientists - professors, all of you! - getting into fights. For any reason. It's ridiculous, and it's unacceptable. You'll both have to be disciplined."  
Phidias felt a wave of guilt, then irritation.  
"He shouldn't be allowed to harass me."  
Alan looked directly into Phidias' eyes.  
"I told you this was going to happen, didn't I, Phidias? I gave you time to prepare. It's not over, you know - the others will come."

He put some things away in his first-aid kit, pulling out a bit of gauze and some of the wet tape. Phidias watched him, his head throbbing. Alan finished bandaging and sat back in his chair, looking pityingly at Phidias.

"I'm sorry, Phidias, but you can't fight them all."


	6. February 14

Phidias rolled over in bed and blinked his eyes. His clock was beeping. He reached for it and waited until he could focus enough to see the time. Seven forty-one. He pressed a button for the date. February 14. Of course. Emily's day. Phidias let go of the clock and fell back onto the bed, wishing he could go back to sleep, back to her. Without fail, Emily had visited him in his dreams on this day, Valentine's Day, every year. It had been her favorite day.

Last night, they had been walking - she'd asked about Cadmus and the mural in his room and when he would be able to come home next. Phidias asked about her; he always did. She never answered these questions - just laughed in that light, merry way that Emily had, tossed her black curls over her shoulder and squeezed his hand. In the dreams, he loved to look at those curls. She had given them to Caddy; given him those, and her soulful brown eyes and half of the shading of her skin. She had made a monument to herself in their son. 'So that you'll never lose me.' she'd told him. Phidias ached to think about it.

In the dreams, Emily always knew before he did when morning was drawing near. Sometimes she would simply look at him - a glance and a smile and a goodbye. Other times, they lingered over their parting; she stroked his hair and he twined his fingers in hers and only the pain of waking drew them apart. This time, she took Phidias' face in her hands, held it close to her own.  
He would remember that her face was a bright, happy glow.  
"I love you." she said.

And then she was gone.

 

Phidias groaned and rolled over to put his face back in the pillow. His shorts stuck to him and he felt like he'd been sweating, even through the cool air of the drafty room. He flipped the sheets back to get out of bed. Everything between them was bloody.

 

His first reaction was to swear, then leap out of bed, then just take off, out of the house, and run away from it all. At least, with feet on the floor, he felt a little better - a little more stable, more grounded. He couldn't look at the bed. He wanted to vomit. This couldn't be happening; it simply couldn't be. He grasped himself through his shorts, checked for his cock and two testicles. This couldn't be happening. They felt tight, small, aching like they had since Joe had kicked them, but they were there. He felt a flash of relief. At least that wasn't happening. Not two in one family. But the blood...so much blood. He kicked down his shorts; the blood was coming from his left testicle.

Phidias felt woozy...panicked, cornered. What was wrong with him? What if he was wrong - what if it was _That_ , the Great Thing they all feared and loved and hated? They were going to know. Everyone was going to know, and they would devour him. Irrationally, he wondered how he was ever going to get to work in the morning, not with all the blood at his groin. They would track him by the blood, he thought suddenly. Sharks can always smell blood in the water... His heart was pounding; he tried to think calm thoughts, rational things - where to go and what to do next. He stared at the sheets. Such a bright, brilliant red.

~:~

Later, he guessed that it must have been the shock of the moment that kept him from feeling the pain. When the shock wore off and the reality set in, the agony hit him like a brick, and then he was down, writhing on the floor, begging for someone to make it stop and then all the world went gray.

~:~

He woke up some time later in a bed that was not his own. A hand waved in front of his eyes, then rested in his hair. He moaned; the pain was dulled. Over time, he came to recognize the hand as belonging to Dr. Alan Long. The bed was Caddy's. Dr. Long stood over him with an unreadable expression.

"I came to drop your GFD papers off. There was no answer when I knocked; I came in."  
Phidias felt too light-headed to answer. Dr. Long noticed this, looked gravely at him.  
"If there was something more I could do myself, I would have kept you here, Phidias." he said quietly. Phidias' fear came to him - there was something in Alan's voice, something sad and frightening. "But you've lost too much blood as it is. Something's wrong; there's some complication. I can't help you with that. If you stayed, I don't think you would make it through the remainder of your Change."

Phidias made a strangled sound, a moan in the back of his throat. Not like this. Please, not like this. Not two in one family.  
"I've already called the ambulance. The CEC will be here shortly."  
Alan hung his head.  
"I'm sorry, Phidias. I'm so, so sorry." he looked away. "I wanted to do more for you. So much more."


	7. February 19: Sunday

"Good Morning, Phidias."

Phidias jerked awake, his heart pounding. He looked warily up at the group gathered at the foot of his hospital bed. There was Adrian, whom Phidias had specifically requested be present at all times, and Dr. Long, who had, for the past week, been trying to take steps in Phidias' defense - he'd argued for him to keep his job, stay out of the Centre, and maintain full custody of Caddy. So far, only one of those wishes had come true. Adrian and Dr. Long were accompanied by three other men; two in uniform, and one thin, wiry looking man with a clipboard. Phidias didn't recognize any of them.

He swallowed and pulled himself to a sitting position in the bed.  
"Good morning...everybody."  
Adrian exchanged a worried glance with Dr. Long, then stepped forward.  
"Phidias, this is Dr. Weirmeier. He is one of the resident geneticists here at the Centre, and he's been working particularly hard on your case."  
The wiry man in the lab coat stepped forward, extending his hand.  
"Hello, Dr. Alexander. Sorry to wake you so suddenly."  
Phidias nodded, then his gaze drifted over to the two officers. Adrian fidgeted, then indicated one of them, the older one on the right, to Phidias.  
"And these gentlemen are from the DHI, the Domestic Health Institute. They um, would like to have a word with you - with us."  
The older officer grunted, and the younger one stepped forward.

"Carrier, as Dr. Weirmeier will tell you, yours is a case of particular rarity and therefore, importance. To date, there have been only four other reported instances of in-family carrier duality. Two of those were later discovered to be genetically disconnected; yours appears to be real, as we are now certain that Cadmus is your biological son."  
 _Well, thank God for small mercies,_ Phidias thought, cynically. The soldier continued,  
"I'm sure you can guess at the significance of this. We've got a genetics team working day and night on mapping your DNA, and we're hoping to isolate any possible mutations or epigenetic markers that might be the root cause of this thing running twice in your line."  
Phidias glanced again at Adrian, but the carrier was busy picking at the edge of his thumbnail and didn't notice. The soldier leaned a little forward.  
"In the meantime, we wondered if you might be so kind as to...make a contribution to the body of human knowledge.  
Phidias furrowed his brow.  
"Make a contribution? What, do you want me to keep a journal or something?"  
The younger officer laughed. It wasn't a very nice laugh.  
"Something like that." he turned to the man in the lab coat. "Doctor?"

In the corner of the room, Adrian had switched to biting his nails. The skinny man stepped forward. Phidias looked him over, assessing. Skinny was taking all of his cues from the young officer; not someone used to being a leader. He wore no jewelry, no wedding ring. His glasses were simple wire frames. His eyes darted in the room, but hands were steady on his clipboard. All he had was this - his life's work, his legacy. Weirmeier cleared his throat.

"It's just that with a phenomenon like this, we don't want to waste any time. We want to fully explore the opportunities that the situation presents." he hesitated, looked at the younger officer, then looked at the clipboard again. "We...don't have any definitive answers at the current moment. We're not sure whether this is random, or whether it's a new mutation, or whether it's simply the end result of a complex interaction of genes and environment. We are sure that we would like to see it in action."  
Phidias began to get a very alarming feeling from this meeting, and looked at everyone in the room suspiciously.  
"So what do you want from me?" he asked, almost afraid of the answer.

The older officer jerked his head as an instruction to Weirmeier to leave, and the man folded his clipboard away and slipped quickly out of the door. The senior man then turned to face Dr. Long, who had stood with an understanding and angry expression by Phidias' bedside this whole time.  
"You as well, Dr. Long."  
Alan shook his head. The officer's voice hardened.  
"I believe Phidias would like his privacy for a little while." Alan resisted, standing silent and still, Phidias' hand clenched in his own.  
"Then perhaps our dear professor would benefit from a reminder of the expectations of a carrier in residence at this Centre." there was a pause. "Or perhaps his son would."  
Phidias heard the threat and quickly snatched his hand away from Alan's.  
"I'll be fine, Alan. You can go."  
The elder professor looked worriedly at his charge.  
"Phil, if you want, I can - "  
Phidias looked up at him, his eyes nakedly afraid, but resigned.  
"Please go."

As soon as the door shut behind the portly professor, the elder officer turned his attention to Phidias.  
"We want you to breed, Phidias." he scrutinized the anthropologist's reaction, but got nothing. Satisfied, he rocked back on his heels. "As soon as possible."  
If Phidias had a reaction, he was too shocked to communicate it; he just laid where he was, feeling numb and disconnected. From the corner of the room, Adrian piped up.  
"Well, I think that's something that we can discuss. Obviously it's a goal for all carriers, but I don't think anything less than a year would be reasonable for Phidias. He's _just_ changed, and given his age, I think he needs a bit of time adjust, mentally and physically, before he starts getting involv - "  
"Six months."  
Adrian turned his attention to the interrupting younger officer.  
"Four." the older officer countered.

Phidias didn't speak, because what could he have possibly said? Instead, he just lay silently in the bed, squeezing the sides of the mattress, and hoped to God or Emily or whoever was listening that someone would come and get him out of this. He missed Caddy.  
Adrian was looking at the men with a firm look.  
"He's a newly changed carrier of advanced age; he needs a year at the least."  
 _A year_ , Phidias thought. _How much could I do in a year? Finish all the papers, the reports, the studies, before I'm forced to leave them behind?_

The younger officer stepped closer to Adrian, chest thrust out, only stopping when he was toe to toe with the smaller man. His voice had menace in it.  
"You trying to give me a _command_ , carrier?"  
Adrian hesitated, then folded his arms across his chest.  
"A year. No less."  
The younger officer narrowed his eyes at the carrier.  
"I believe I said six months."  
Adrian bit his lip, seeming more uncertain, then shook his head.  
"Can't be done."  
The officer squared up, and anger spilled out across his face for just a moment before it disappeared, replaced with the blank mask that all the military subordinates Phidias met seemed to have.  
"Well, carrier, let's see if you and I can't negotiate once we speak in private."

Before Adrian could resist, the younger officer snatched him up and dragged him into the next room, letting the door slam behind them. Phidias sat up in alarm and reached for the IV port in his arm, needing to get up, get out, get free, help Adrian. Then there was a jolt, and the older officer was looing over him.  
"Calm down, carrier. Adrian won't be harmed."  
Phidias stared at the man in horror. The officer straightened up and brushed some tiny bit of lint from his uniform jacket.  
"They're just going to chat."  
Phidias felt sick to his stomach. Nothing seemed right.  
"Be that as it may, I would really rather get up just now." he said, and began peeling off electrodes.

A hand on his wrist stopped him. He looked up into steely grey eyes.  
"Did you hear me, carrier? I said your friend is fine."  
Phidias didn't know how to react to this; he wished Adrian were in here so he could follow his lead. Swallowing pride and anger and fear, Phidias let go of the wire in his hand. The older man released him, satisfied.  
"Good." he patted Phidias' head. " _Good_."

~

The officer first checked the lock on the door to the storage room he'd dragged the carrier into, then reached out and slapped Adrian across the face.

"Don't you ever, _ever_ fucking talk back to a man that way."  
Adrian backed up, one hand pressed to his stinging cheek. Without an audience, the fight was all gone from him; he cowered from the strength of the officer's violence.  
"I'm sorry!" he answered, cupping his cheek. "But he does need more time. Please, he really does."  
The officer raised a fist as if he were going to strike Adrian, then jabbed at the air.  
"Six. Months."  
Adrian thought about this, then shook his head. His voice trembled when he spoke, but he said it anyway.  
"He gets one year, or you get no carrier."  
The officer practically shrieked with anger, advancing again on Adrian.  
" **Don't** you fucking tell me what I get!"

There was an edge in the officer's voice that was familiar to Adrian; he had been here before. The man advanced, and Adrian retreated. The space between them grew smaller and smaller; the air felt choked and too close, dusty from the disuse of the room. Adrian's breath came in short gasps. Then there was nowhere left to retreat; the officer pressed against him, half-hard already.  
Adrian's back hit the wall. The officer leaned forward, grinding his hips against Adrian's, and spoke directly into his ear.

"Is this what you wanted, Adrian? Hmm? Is that what this is? That whole fucking power play out there? You wanted my attention? Well, you got it, princess."  
Adrian shook his head furiously.  
"No! Please, stop - I'm sorry! I shouldn't have talked back. I didn't mean it, and I won't do it again. Let me go, please?"  
The younger officer dropped his head to Adrian's neck, shoulders shaking with a laugh.  
"Why should I?"  
Adrian bit his lip again, and his hands went to the officer's chest.  
"I have a fiancé."  
The officer widened his stance, shoving one knee between Adrian's legs and forcing them apart. A hand groped the front of Adrian's natori and although it made his stomach turn, he knew better than to resist or slap it away.  
"He breed you yet?"  
Adrian paled and was silent.  
"ANSWER ME!" the man shouted.  
Adrian shook his head. The officer's hand traced the outline of Adrian's dick through the thin fabric, then slid around to his ass.  
"How long has he had you?"  
Adrian was silent again, shaking instead with rage and honest fear.  
"HOW LONG, CARRIER?"  
Adrian's lower lip trembled.  
"10 months."  
The officer scoffed.  
"Almost a year. If he didn't breed you, he doesn't want you." he snaked a possessive arm around Adrian's waist. "I'll show you better."

~

Adrian came out of the storage room looking none the worse for the wear, Phidias decided with relief. He looked a little shaken, and his eyes kept darting, but he seemed otherwise unharmed. No bruises, no cuts. Phidias relaxed a little. Adrian came and stood next to him. He lingered there for a moment, not speaking.  
"I - I think that it might be better..." he paused, cleared his throat and glanced at the younger officer, who was busy tucking his shirt back in. "Better for you to do things more quickly. Officer Wick might be right. Six months would be better."

Phidias looked down at where Adrian was squeezing his hand and noticed that the young man was trembling. He looked again at the younger officer - Wick, he supposed. The man had the grim but determined and pleased expression of a man surveying the field of a hard-won battle.  
"Let's go, Adrian." he said, finally, and Adrian jumped to stand. The officer gestured to the carrier in the bed. "Explain to Phidias why you have to go now."  
Adrian focused his gaze again on the floor.  
"I - I have to go." Adrian seemed unable to say more, but Wick stepped forward and he hastened to continue. "Because I need to find a doctor."  
Phidias blinked uncomprehendingly at Adrian, who wouldn't look at him.  
"And the rest, Adrian."  
Wick's voice was firm, but amused.  
"I..." Adrian shook his head; his throat felt impossibly tight suddenly. How was he going to explain this to Steven? He couldn't. It was fucked. It was over. And now Wick wanted him to say - he couldn't take it. Adrian shook his head, eyes watering over, and ran out of the room.  
The officers exchanged glances.  
"Better go after him." the older one said. "Won't do to have him denying what you did. He'll douche it out, you know. Better go and catch him."  
Wick swore and disappeared out of the door. The older man turned to Phidias.  
"I do hope you'll consider what we've said. And take care of yourself, carrier. You are, after all, the future of our world."  
With that, he left.

~:~


	8. February 24

Adrian was one lucky carrier. He'd bled the day after Wick had him in the storage room, and the doctors were consequently skeptical about the likelihood of conception. Adrian cajoled his nurse into a pregnancy test four days later, to be sure. Sean Wick protested, but was eventually overruled. Adrian took the results home and waited to open them with Steven.

Negative.

Adrian had never read a word with such relief. Steven squeezed him, held him really tight, then took him to the bed and made love to him.

Two weeks later, Adrian took a test again.

Negative.

A clenching fear seized him. He and Steven had quit the prophylactics; he and his fiancé were both young and in good health - what could the problem be? It's me, Adrian thought immediately. I know it's me. And what use, he asked himself, is a carrier who cannot breed?

~:~

The doctors ran every test twice. They were sure, they told him. Absolutely sure. Adrian sat on the bed in the hospital room and stared at the wall. The pain was too close to make room for tears. He felt like he was suffocating. The Centre director had come in, shaking his head, and said that this would not do - this simply would not do at all. They would have to find him another companion.

And just that quickly - that soon - Steven, Steven of the beautiful mouth and the sweet words, and the patience when Adrian didn't want to talk, and the hands that stroked him gently and the loyalty even after Wick...Steven was gone.   
No sense, the Director pointed out to him, in giving a carrier to a man who can't even breed.

Adrian stared at the wall and saw Steven's face there. His heart quietly pulled itself apart, perhaps hoping to break into pieces small enough to escape and reassemble wherever his fiancé happened to be. There was no use in crying. Adrian asked for Wick.

~:~

Meanwhile, Caddy found out. And Phidias found out that Caddy found out when his son came rushing into the rooms they shared one afternoon, eyes full with tears and angry, pounding his fists into his father's side.  
"Why did you do it, Dad?! Why didn't you tell me?! I could have helped you! I could have helped you!"  
Phidias was so bewildered that he just stood there for a few minutes and took the hits, let Caddy exhaust his anger on him. Afterwards, he asked him how he knew.

The Others had told him, he'd admitted, and Phidias knew the Others were the boys in his peer group, the ones he'd dismissed as being too superficial, too silly, too weak until they started in on him. Caddy was too small, too boyish, too dorky, too dumb, too sensitive, too ugly, too prudish, too bookish, too boring to ever make anyone happy. He might as well not be a carrier at all. It was after the taunts had started that Caddy had begun desperately wanting to be their friend.

"Dad..." Caddy was slumped on the floor now, his backpack between his legs and his back to the wall. "Why did you do it?"

~:~

Phidias had been admitted to the CEC on the morning of February 14, Valentine's Day. Three days later, he was well enough to go home with a chaperone and pack enough things for himself and his son to last them a week. That night, he and Caddy moved in to their new quarters in the Centre. Caddy had squeezed him so tightly, and whispered so sincerely that he was glad his father was here and now they could see each other every day, that for a flash moment, Phidias felt happy.

The next day, he went to his office to pack his things. The chaperone waited outside. Joe Stern came, and Phidias allowed him in; he only wanted, like the vulture he was, to pick over his colleague's leavings - books and journals and photographs he'd always coveted but never had himself. Phidias watched him at the bookshelf, bored and sick and wanting very much to give in to his desire to put one hand to his head, claim fatigue, and go back home to the Centre to sleep until Cadmus came home. The attack from Joe came suddenly, but as no surprise. A hyena cannot change its nature. There was a fight; Phidias hit his head on the table again, but so hard this time that he saw stars and funny colors and the world went black for a little while.

When he woke up on the afternoon of the 18th, he was in the infirmary and Joe Stern was in jail.

He was to be kept three days for monitoring. That evening he spoke to Adrian, who negotiated his release for an hour and a half, to eat dinner with Cadmus in the common room. When they got there, Cadmus was gone - off to a different wing to eat with his friends instead. Phidias had gotten somewhat irritated, but Adrian just shrugged and said they'd have an adult dinner instead. Phidias didn't eat much.

He ate so little, in fact, that when they went to check out, the officer on duty stopped him to ask a million and one questions. Why hadn't he eaten - wasn't he hungry? Not really. Was this a pattern? No. Was he now, or had he ever been diagnosed with an eating disorder? No. Had he been having feelings of depression lately? Yes. Suicidal thoughts? No, but he might soon if you didn't stop hassling him. Was he in otherwise good health? Yes. Menstruating regularly? Phidias threw the tray in his face. Adrian froze. The officer calmly wiped a splatter of mashed potatoes from his chin and breast pocket, then tossed the napkin to the side, came forward, and very publicly began to beat the fuck out of Phidias.

~

When he came to again, it was the morning of the 19th, and Adrian, Alan Long, the geneticist doctor, and two men were standing in his hospital room.

Phidias had been very careful to pretend the incident had never existed. Bruises were from where he'd passed out - low blood sugar, he assured his son. Only temporary. Nothing to worry about. In the hospital one or two days, then back home and back to normal. It had been a lie, and now Cadmus had found out. Phidias couldn't tell whether he was angry or embarrassed - truth be told, Phidias had been more embarrassed of himself than of the beating. No matter what happened, he reminded himself, keep control. Don't let these bastards make you crazy. Caddy shook his head.

"Dad. I keep trying to help you." he looked pitifully up at his father. His eyes were wet. "Please don't make them separate us again. Please don't make them take you away."

Caddy's eyes looked just like Emily's. Phidias' heart ached. He made his resolution then - Cadmus was right. He would not give them reason to separate them. He would not let them take his son's father away. He would be good.


	9. Leap Year

**February 29**

"Caddy, no." Phidias shook his head firmly. "No. I'm sorry. But I don't think it's appropriate, and I'm not letting you wear it. Especially not to school."  
Cadmus sighed tremulously, already irritated with his father.  
"Dad. I'm not a little kid, and it's not that big of a deal. Everybody in my level wears something."  
Phidias didn't answer, just pursed his lips tighter and shook his head.   
"Caddy, no. You _are_ a kid, and it's not - "  
"I am **not a kid**!" Caddy slammed his palm down on the bathroom counter. "I am not a child. I'm 14 fucking years old, and I have to deal with real life, just like you do. And I have friends, and problems, and I get picked on already, and it's hard enough as it is, and then _every time_ I get to act even a little bit normal, you always have to come in and **ruin** it! I just want to be like everybody else for **one** day! I just want to fit in for a little while! Why is that so bad?!"

Phidias was stunned into silence; the Caddy he remembered hadn't acted like this, and the Caddy he had raised would never speak to him like this. This wasn't Caddy, this was some thief, some little monster that had taken over his son's body.

"Cadmus, I - "  
Caddy didn't even let him finish. He was too hyped up on emotion and the momentum of his argument.  
"Isn't my life _fucked up_ enough for you? Why do you keep trying to make it worse? God." Eyes running with tears now, Caddy snatched up his backpack and shoved it roughly onto his shoulders. "I was better off before you got here." That said, he threw the tube of mascara at Phidias. "Fine. You take it. I won't wear it." At the bathroom door, he turned and added nastily, "Maybe _you_ can use it."

Phidias stared after him until he heard the apartment door slam. Then he got in the shower and stared at the wall until he was late for his own morning class.

~:~

Because of Phidias' accelerated situation, he had daily private counseling during what would have been his free hour. The counselor was a very kind man of about Phidias' age, who wore dark, well-made suit pants and a simple shirt on almost every occasion. Knowing nothing else about the man, it was not immediately clear to Phidias whether he was a carrier himself or not. He had a calm, refined air about him, and Phidias found it difficult to imagine him acting like some of the other carriers did - subservient and superficial. Thinking of other carriers brought his mind back to Caddy, and his face must have belied his tension, because the counselor asked about it.

"Something on your mind, Phidias?"  
Phidias shifted uncomfortably on the large, soft leather couch.  
"My son, Cadmus. He's - he wants to wear...makeup. We had a fight about it. I think he's...really mad."

For a moment, he could have sworn he heard Emily's laughter, but it was so ephemeral that he decided he must have imagined it. The counselor smiled kindly at him.

"Cadmus is 14. It's a tough age, carrier or not. I'm sure he said some pretty mean things to you, didn't he?"  
Phidias nodded and folded his arms tightly over his chest.  
"I'm just worried that he...he...hates me."  
The counselor smiled ruefully and shook his head.  
"I assure you, he doesn't. It's adolescence. We all said some pretty mean things at that age, didn't we? Even to people who loved us very much, and who we loved back."

There was quiet while Phidias pondered over this for a minute.

"Do you want to tell me what he said?"  
Phidias continued pondering, didn't nod or look up, but spoke abruptly.  
"He said he was better off before I got here."  
The counselor cringed.  
"Ouch. That one always stings, doesn't it?"  
Phidias looked up at him and shrugged.  
"I don't know. He's never said it before."  
The counselor made an understanding face.  
"Well, I think it ranks about third in popularity in a recent poll of early teenagers, just after 'I hate you' and 'You're ruining my life'."  
The counselor delivered these two with such dead-on accuracy that Phidias couldn't help but laugh, which made the counselor laugh, and the two shared the joke, enjoying the fellowship for a peaceful minute. Then the counselor cleared his throat.

"So how is everything else going?"  
Any camaraderie they'd had vanished. Phidias straightened up in his chair.  
"Fine. I feel fine. Doctors say I'm fine. No more pain, no nausea. Head's OK."  
The counselor nodded.  
"And did you try the explorations we talked about?"  
Phidias turned red immediately and shook his head.  
"I can't."  
The counselor shifted in his chair so that he faced Phidias more fully.  
"You can't?"  
"I can't...do that. I can't touch myself."  
The counselor nodded.  
"OK. That's OK for right now. But why do you think you feel that you can't touch yourself?"  
Phidias folded his arms again and mumbled.  
"Because it doesn't feel like me. It's not...my body. It's not mine."  
"But it is yours."  
Phidias didn't respond. The counselor glanced at the clock.  
"Phidias, I'm sorry to push you. Really, I am. It's just..."  
"That I'm a time-sensitive issue. Yeah. I know. I have to keep trying the exercises, know my own body. I'm on a clock. I get that. I have a date this week."

The counselor looked surprised, then flipped back a few pages in the notepad he was holding.  
"I didn't know; nobody - "  
"I asked them not to tell." Phidias looked sheepish; his desire to keep the thing a secret seemed childish now - it wasn't as if everyone didn't know it was inevitable. "Sorry."  
The counselor shook his head vigorously.  
"No, Phidias, no sorry. It's OK. You made a choice and that's fine."  
There was a pause.  
"Do you want to talk about it?"  
"No." Phidias answered dully.  
"OK." the counselor glanced at the clock again. "Well, we're getting close to our time-up here." he looked back at Phidias. "And I bet you want to get on with your day, don't you?"  
Phidias shrugged.  
"Lunchtime, I guess. I could eat something." he frowned. "I wanted to transcribe some tapes I had this afternoon, but they won't let me have them." he made a face. "They're reviewing all my work materials."  
The counselor closed his eyes and exhaled.  
"Checking for contraband. Yeah. They did that to me, too."  
One mystery solved.

The counselor glanced again at the clock.  
"Listen, would you like some company for lunch? I won't be able to go, but I know a group - mostly early thirties, but all professionals - and they're always welcoming to a new member."  
Phidias hesitated, remembering his debacle in the lunchroom the week before.  
"...unless you'd rather eat alone."  
Phidias shook his head furiously.  
"No. I really would rather not."

~:~

Adrian stared at his feet as they swung back and forth. Left, right. Left, right. Black shoe, black shoe. A pair of feet appeared in his line of vision. They were wearing blue sneakers. Mom. He looked up. Big brown eyes were looking down gently at him.  
"Test said yes, sweetie." His carrier stepmother came forward and hugged him, and Adrian immediately began to bawl. "OK." Ren ran gentle fingers through his hair, tried to soothe him. "OK. I know. It's OK."  
Adrian shook his head.  
"He _won_ , Mom. He won."  
Ren held onto Adrian tightly.  
"Hush, Adrian, hush. It's OK. You're fine."

After a few minutes, Ren pulled back, smoothing the hair out of Adrian's face and handing him a tissue to wipe his eyes.  
"Your dad's outside, in the hallway."  
Adrian looked up, the question unasked in his eyes. Ren nodded.  
"Yeah, he's there, too."  
Adrian made a frustrated sound and rubbed his eyes again, trying to stem tears. Ren sat down next to him on the hospital bed so that he could rub his stepson's back.  
"You know you've got to be happy for your father's sake, don't you?"   
Adrian nodded miserably. Ren brushed specks of dirt off of Adrian's shirt.   
"He's so happy for you. You know that, too, don't you?" Adrian nodded again. There was a speculative silence.  
"It wasn't - " Ren stopped, bit his lip. "You're crying, so I guess there's no chance it was - "  
Adrian shook his head, eyes focused on the wall straight ahead. Ren looked at him tenderly.  
"Are you hurt?"  
Adrian shook his head.  
"It wasn't...he didn't hurt me."  
Ren accepted this. More silence.

Then Ren, trying to cheer him, nudged him with one elbow and smiled mischievously.  
"You know this means we'll live together again, right? More fool your father,"  
Adrian laughed. He hadn't really thought of it before. Going back to Woodacre. Back home. It seemed so far away. A body appeared in the doorway. Adrian's stomach dropped. Ren smiled calmly and got up to hug his future son-in-law.  
"Hi, Sean."  
"Hi, Mrs. Mackenzie."  
"How are you? You look like they've been feeding you well." he joked, poking teasingly at Sean's chest, where he had filled out since the last time Ren had seen him. Sean Wick smiled.  
"They have. How's everything at Woodacre?"  
"Fine. Callie had her puppies. We think they're Copper's - they all came out spotted brown. Afterwards, she ate two chickens. Your mom was... pretty upset."  
Sean snickered.  
"About the puppies, Copper, or the chickens?"  
Ren laughed.  
"All three, I think."  
Sean's gaze slid over to Adrian.  
"Well...at least this will make him happy."

Ren glanced once at Adrian, who had straightened up as soon as Sean had come into the room, and was busy making himself presentable for his father.  
"I'm sure! You should call him, quick, or I'll open my big mouth and spoil your surprise."  
Sean looked once more at Adrian, who had by then managed to elevate his appearance from suicidal to apathetic.  
"Actually, I'd like to talk to Adrian alone for a minute first, if I could."  
Ren didn't even blink.  
"No problem. I'll be outside. But remember - his dad wants to see him, too! Don't take up all his time."

The door clicked shut. Sean approached the bed. Adrian wouldn't look at him.  
"You still mad at me?" Adrian wasn't about to answer a question as stupid as that one. Sean pressed. "Hmm? Are you? You in a snit?"  
Adrian felt a rage welling up in him and he willed it down. Sean observed him for a minute, then sat down beside him on the bed.  
"Come on, babe. What did you think was going to happen? What did you think was ever going to happen? You knew. You knew from the minute you agreed to come that day; you _had_ to."  
Adrian shook his head. Everything was bursting, ready to explode from his mouth. He tried to tamp it down, but all the anger, and the pain, and the confusion, and the anguish fought him to get out.  
"You ruined me."  
Sean rolled his eyes.  
"Babe."  
Adrian shook his head.  
"You did. You ruined my life. We used to be _friends_ , Sean - remember? You cared about me; you wanted me to be happy." he turned, miserably, to look Sean Wick in the eyes. "What happened?"  
Sean stared back at him.  
"Steven."

Adrian sucked in a breath, then shook his head and tried to stand; a heavy hand on his arm stopped him.  
"What the _fuck_ was I supposed to do, Adrian? Just let you leave? Just let you run away from your family and your home and your heritage and everything that has ever meant something to you? What choice did I have?"  
"You should have left me!" Adrian hissed, wanting to shout but terrified that his father might hear. "You should have left me with him!"  
Sean scoffed.  
"That limp-dicked little -"  
Adrian slapped him, hard, across the face; his cheeks flamed red and his chest heaved. Sean watched him with wide eyes.  
"You don't ever get to talk about Steven. Ever. You don't ever get to talk about anyone, you fucking pig. You _raped_ me."  
Sean coughed out a laugh of disbelief.  
"So when you come to me, it's sex. When I come to you, it's rape."  
" ** _Fuck_** you, Sean."  
Wick narrowed his eyes.  
"Watch your language. Remember who you're talking to." Sean glanced at the door. "And besides, your dad is in the hallway."

Adrian recalled this and hesitated; Sean held out one hand to him.  
"Come on, Adrian. Come here. Please?"  
There was a long moment of deliberation as Adrian looked between Sean's outstretched hand and the door. Sean's eyes hardened, and he let the command seep back into his voice.  
"Come here, Adrian. Now."

Newfound rebellion was no match for years of thorough training and an audience to shame him. So Adrian gave in, made his way across the room, and squeezed in between Sean's open legs to stand close and not meet his eyes. Wick wrapped his arms around Adrian's back, laying his head against the smaller man's middle.

"Look, I'm sorry, OK? I'm sorry we had to come together like this. I'm sorry I didn't take you when I had the chance. I'm sorry that I was stupid and young and bullheaded back then, but things are different now. And I'm not sorry we _are_ together, even if the circumstances could be better."  
In his arms, Adrian tensed, and Sean leaned back to see his face and raised an eyebrow.  
"You didn't really think you were going to marry him, did you?"  
Adrian didn't answer. Sean studied his face.  
"Well. At least you didn't fuck him. Thank God you didn't fuck him."  
Adrian kept very quiet.  
Sean looked up at him.  
"Is that why he left you?"  
Adrian shrugged.  
Sean looked wistfully up at him.  
"Well, he was a fool. If he loved you, he'd have bred you. I know he made you happy. But I can, too. That's all we want for you, you know - your dad and Ren and my parents and me - we want you to be happy. I hope, in time, that you'll understand that."

Sean lifted his head again. Adrian was looking down at him with an expressionless face.  
"Let me marry you. Let me take you home, to Woodacre. You can have one of Callie's puppies. We can build a house. We can make our parents deliriously happy."  
"You think...they'll be happy?"  
Sean scoffed.  
"They've been hoping this would happen since you were fourteen years old."  
Adrian looked to the side.  
"I thought your stepmom always kind of hated me."  
Sean smiled, the first utterly sincere smile he'd given Adrian in a long time.  
"He was just afraid you'd break my heart."


	10. March 4: Saturday

Caddy leaned back on his elbows on his dad's bed, swinging his legs.   
"Is that what you're wearing?"  
Phidias looked up from brushing his teeth and looked down at himself.  
"Whas wron wif id?"  
Caddy's nose wrinkled.   
"Huh?"  
Phidias spit and rinsed his mouth.  
"What's wrong with it?"  
Caddy half shrugged and opened a magazine.  
"You should wear a natori. Otherwise he'll think you're too boy."

Phidias wanted to point out that he was, in point of fact, _all_ boy, but he refrained. He looked at himself in the mirror. His hair, too long to be convenient, but still too short to be fashionable, stuck out at awkward angles from his head, but otherwise, he felt he looked okay. He glanced down at the jeans he was wearing.  
"I don't really like wearing natoris, Caddy."

In the bedroom, Cadmus rolled his eyes.  
"You just say that because you don't know how to wear them." There was the rustling of movement, and Cadmus appeared in the bathroom doorway. "Try it. I'll help you."  
Phidias hesitated.  
"Caddy, I don't know - "  
"Think of it as a cultural experience." Caddy tilted his head and looked up at his father. "I mean, when you traveled to the islands, back when you met mom - you guys wore island clothes, didn't you?"  
Phidias had to concede that he did remember possessing several lava-lavas during that time, but that was different, that was -   
"So how's a natori any different? It's what we wear here. It's _our_ culture." Cadmus' expression softened beseechingly. "Just try it - it's a new experience. And anyway, they're just clothes. They cover you; they don't make you."  
Caddy shrugged and left, going back to his magazine in the other room. Alone in the bathroom, Phidias hid the beginning of a smile. His son could be a clever devil when he wanted to.

~

By ten minutes to eight, Phidias was dressed. Caddy had wrapped him in a dark blue natori with a simple silver pattern around the edges, insisting it would be subtle but alluring enough for a first date.

"Just don't get bred tonight." Caddy told him, stepping back to survey his handiwork. "I'm too spoiled to be a big brother just yet."

Phidias laughed a little, but the thought Caddy had raised was sobering: in just five months, Phidias would be pregnant.   
Five months.   
Maybe less. Maybe tonight.   
Suddenly, Phidias' innocent first date had become rather frightening. Then, turning to go and find a glass of water, he caught a glimpse of himself in the dressing mirror. The man looking back at him was someone he didn't recognize. Shaggy hair, no beard, a tight-fitting shirt, and his legs all wrapped up like a Christmas present in his natori. Phidias froze, paralyzed by his reflection and unsure, momentarily, whether this image or the one in his head was the realer version.

Cadmus yelped suddenly and rushed over to him.  
"Dad! I almost forgot. You can't wear these."  
His son snatched the wire-rim glasses from his face and folded them carefully up. Phidias frowned; the reflection had disappeared into a blur now.  
"Caddy! Give those back!"  
The boy shook his head and held the pair behind his back.  
"No! They make you look _way_ too smart."

Phidias' expression changed from annoyance to alarm.  
"Caddy, why would I not want to look smart? I should look smart; I _am_ smart."  
Cadmus exhaled in exasperation, and answered his father with the patient all-knowingness of a young teenager.  
"Yes, but he isn't supposed to know that yet."  
Phidias frowned.  
"Who?"  
"Your date!"  
"What should I do? Let him think I'm stupid, and then surprise him? Jump out of the bushes reading Tennenbaum?"

Cadmus gave his dad a look that clearly indicated that he was neither pleased nor amused by this little comment.  
"It is always better to have your opponent underestimate your ability."  
Phidias looked askance at Caddy.  
"Have you been reading Sun Tzu?"  
"Dad!" Caddy was getting annoyed now. "If he knows you're smart now, then he'll be on his guard all the time because he'll know he can't slip up. If he thinks you're dumb now, you can learn more about him because he'll think you won't notice if he drops his act."  
"What if he doesn't have an act?"  
Caddy gave his father a disbelieving look.  
"Come on, Dad. They all have an act."  
Phidias raised both eyebrows.  
"Do they now?"  
Caddy just blinked at him.  
"Men are dangerous, Dad."

Phidias frowned and gave his son a skeptical look.  
"Caddy, **we** are men. And we're not dangerous."  
Caddy rolled his eyes.  
" _Real_ men, Dad."  
Phidias' back stiffened, but before he could respond to this, Caddy went on.  
"Adrian said that forty percent of all pregnancies are forced."   
Phidias was silent for a minute while he worked out whether that could possibly be true.  
"And although it's usually fine, and almost of those moms are happy eventually, it can be a really tough way to transition into a new life phase."

Phidias turned to look at Caddy straight on.  
"What?"  
Cadmus blinked up at him and shrugged.  
"Well, you know - even if it sucks at the time, in the end, they're happy. Because they're fulfilling their natural role. And contributing to the reconstruction of the world. You know - men help by building, carriers help by birthing. Having a family is the right thing to do."

Phidias stared at his son. Cadmus frowned as if this were all very obvious.  
"Don't you want to have a family, Dad?"  
Phidias looked a little injured.  
"We _are_ a family, Cadmus. Me and you. That's our family."  
Caddy shook his head slowly.  
"No, we're a part of a family. We need balance to have a family. We need a leader."  
"Caddy, I'm our leader."  
A doubtful look flashed over Cadmus' face, and he failed at hiding it.  
"Dad." he said patiently. "Carriers shouldn't be household leaders. What job would that leave for the men to do?"

Phidias just stared openly at his son, disturbed. But what could he say? The CEC teachings had taken deep root in Caddy, it appeared. But should he unplant them? Was it even good for Caddy? To know what he himself knew? To understand as thoroughly the depth of their oppression and the sheer magnitude of their despair? What would be the point?

So Phidias stared at his son's calm face for a minute more, then went back to the mirror.  
"Caddy, where did you get this stuff from?"  
Caddy flipped back a few pages in the magazine.  
"We talked about it in Social Arts on Thursday." he looked up, with interest, at his dad. "Why? What do you talk about in your carrier classes?"  
Phidias paused. What did they talk about?  
"We learn...laws, and policy. And culture, too, and the philosophy of gender. Topics like that."  
Caddy nodded seriously.  
"Oh. Book stuff."  
Phidias frowned.  
"You used to like book stuff."  
Caddy was quick to assure him.  
"No, no, I still do - really, it's just that none of that stuff is very useful, is it? I mean, it doesn't tell you how to be a carrier, exactly. Just what one is. Do you think they think you'll figure the rest out on your own?"

Phidias shrugged. This line of thought was depressing him. The word _pregnant_ had appeared in his mind again, and it loomed over his thoughts - a dark cloud in an otherwise serene gray sky.   
Five months.   
He stared at his reflection, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles out of his natori.

Cadmus, seeing that he had upset his dad, got up from the bed to comfort him. Padding barefoot over to where his slim, taller father stood, Caddy hung one arm around his dad's waist and stood next to him in the mirror. For a minute, Phidias was struck by how similar they looked - strange; he had always thought Cadmus favored Emily. But in the mirror, both wearing near-identical natoris, they seemed so alike. Caddy gave his dad a half-hug/squeeze which pinched Phidias' side a little.  
"Dad, you'll figure everything out. And you'll be fine. I promise."  
Phidias reached down and stroked Caddy's curly hair, noting how the texture of it had changed since Cadmus' childhood. He had been so small then - just a little, silky-haired angel, face all framed by sandy locks. Then the spell was broken; Cadmus released the embrace and stood up.

"Just don't bring up any of your journal publications on the first date."  
Phidias grinned and pretended to furrow his brow in consternation.  
"What?! But that's the sexiest thing about me." he joked, and smiled when Caddy laughed.

~:~

Adrian sat at the antique maple wood table in his parents' informal dining room and picked over his food. He was hungry, but nothing appealed to him.   
Sean watched him from across the table. Adrian put down his fork.  
"I'm kind of tired. I think I'm gonna - "  
"You eat first." Sean interrupted, his voice tense.  
Ren joined in, trying to quell any potential argument and settle the nascent debate.  
"Maybe he can eat later, after - "  
"No." Sean shook his head. "He didn't eat lunch, and he wouldn't take a snack. He's only had water. He needs to eat. Eat, Adrian."

Adrian glared at him, but obediently picked his fork up again. Major General William Mackenzie observed the interaction without comment, but Ren noticed that his husband looked with some concern at their son before turning back silently to his meal.

June, Sean's carrier stepmother, scooted his chair closer to Adrian. He spoke low and gently to the newly pregnant carrier.  
"Come on, Adie. Maybe just try a little bit of each thing? It won't be so bad if you eat it that way."   
June took the fork from Adrian's hand and scooped up some potatoes. Adrian, seeing that refusal would, at that point, be inexcusably rude, ate them. June tried again with some beets. Adrian took them, but made a face.  
"OK." the older carrier soothed. "OK. I know. Just a little more potatoes, OK?"  
Some sort of wet knot welled up in Adrian's throat.  
"I don't want them. I don't want them, OK, Mrs. Wick?" he felt weird all of a sudden; a mixture of violent and weepy. June backed off.  
"OK. OK." June cast around the table. "Do you want to try something sweet instead?"  
Adrian shook his head, eyes brimming with tears. Sean noticed this and glanced at his father, who made an it's-okay gesture and then resumed his conversation with William Mackenzie. Adrian scrubbed at his eyes with the heel of his hand.  
"No! I want it salty. I just - I don't want the fish." he looked down at his plate. "Or the beets. Or the spinach. The potatoes can stay." the tears began to well up again, and he stared down at his meal in misery, feeling at once resentful for being given food he didn't want, and guilty for acting so ungrateful at a dinner in his honor. But everything tasted weird, and he didn't want any of it, and it smelled weird, too, and -

A fork, bearing a small, cut square of steak edged its way towards Adrian's plate. Immediately, Adrian knew. That was what he'd wanted - steak. The fork quietly deposited its cargo on the edge of his plate and hovered there for a minute before retreating.

Adrian stabbed the meat with his own fork and ate it hungrily. Sean gave a grateful look to Major General Mackenzie and immediately began cutting his own steak up for Adrian. The piece he proffered was also immediately devoured. After that piece had gone, Adrian looked calmly up at Sean.  
"Are you going to eat the rest of that?"   
A wave of tension seemed to flow out of the room. June beamed and leaned down to tease Adrian.  
"See? Food tastes better when it comes from your husband, doesn't it?"

Adrian didn't respond - he was too engrossed in the steak. William Mackenzie spoke up.  
"That puts me in mind of something, June: the wedding." he turned to Sean. "I trust you've made some plans for it."  
Sean hesitated.  
"Not exactly, sir, I - "  
"Not exactly!"  
" _Will_." Ren's voice interrupted him. "It'll be fine. It'll be taken care of. Don't make something of it."  
Major General Mackenzie straightened his shoulders, a sure sign he was irritated.

"It most certainly is not fine, and I think _something's_ already been made of it." he said pointedly, gesturing towards Adrian. Sean colored, looking to his own father for support. Commander Ian Wick, however, had found something particularly interesting in a piece of lint on the floor, and was unavailable for comment on the matter. Sean faced William Mackenzie again.  
"I apologize again, General, it was not my place to - "  
"Damn right it wasn't your place. You were raised better than that, to prance about recklessly impregnating carriers."  
Sean's face got hot.  
"I was hardly prancing or reckless, sir. I was just - it's just - I mean, it's Adrian. It's not like it was some stranger."  
Ren and June both looked up at this comment. William Mackenzie leaned forward.  
"So he deserves less respect than a stranger? Is that what you mean to tell me?"  
Sean's eyes widened.  
"No, sir, absolutely not, I didn't mean that, I just meant..."  
William narrowed his eyes.  
"What did you mean, Sean? And be clear."  
Sean sighed.   
"I just meant that I'm sorry, sir. And we'll sort the wedding out right away."

From the other room, there was a crash, then the sound of four-year-old wailing and nine-year-old scolding. Ren and June both got up, but Ren soothed the taller carrier back down.  
"It's OK. It's fine. I'll go see to them."  
June looked doubtfully after Ren, but Ren just smiled his disarming smile and shook his black hair over his shoulder.  
"I can handle it. It's already under control. I promise."

~:~

Phidias held the strange man's hand and tried hard not to think about anything. He focused on his breathing, barely listening to the story he was being recounted about the last time his date had been at this harbor. He glanced behind him to check for the presence of his chaperone, and when he turned back, the man was in front of him, and then there were lips, warm and dry, pressed onto his, and Phidias was holding his breath. He exhaled his relief when it was over. Guy pulled back from the kiss and cradled Phidias' face in both his hands.

"Was that one your first?" he murmured, drawing one thumb over Phidias' narrow jaw. Phidias didn't answer. Guy smiled. "There's my answer. Come here."  
This one was expected, but none more pleasant. It wasn't unpleasant, really, just dull, and different; somewhat strange, even. Phidias broke the kiss and tried to pull away. Guy drew him back by his hand.  
"Come, come now." he soothed. "Don't run from me. We're just getting started."  
Phidias shook his head and pulled back.  
"I, um - uh, I - um."  
"Um?" Guy stole another kiss, this one more demanding than the first two. Phidias put his hands up to the man's chest to slow him down, but suddenly his back was up against the railing of the harbor and a hand was on his hip. Phidias pulled away again.  
"OK. Um, can we take a break?"

Guy nodded, but made no move to release Phidias. Instead, he dipped his head to the carrier's neck and gave a gentle nip. Phidias nearly leapt out of his natori. He pushed Guy, hard, and the man stumbled back a step, then turned and was suddenly moving forward, towards Phidias again. Phidias panicked, suddenly feeling trapped, wondering where his chaperone had wandered to, and seeing visions of the words _Five Months_ dancing in front of his eyes. So he did the only thing he could think to do in the situation - an instinctive reaction when he felt threatened. He punched Guy in the face.

From the ground, clutching one hand over his bleeding nose, Guy glared up at Phidias and swore.  
"I wasn't attacking you, you stupid bitch! I fell."

~:~

Guy ended up being really sweet about the whole thing, considering he'd spent the climax of their date in the infirmary. So, in the end, Phidias got off easy - just a written letter of apology and three sessions of specialized anger counseling. Not even a note in his file. So, all in all, it was a pretty nice date, considering.

Phidias stumbled into his quarters after midnight. Caddy was still awake, sitting up in Phidias' bed with a Jules Verne novel. He put it down as his dad entered.  
"Hey! How did it....oh."  
Phidias' body language was clear, as was the rumpled natori and weird expression. Caddy frowned.  
"Dad? What happened?"

Phidias didn't answer immediately, just made his way to the bathroom, rinsed his face, took the pins out that Cadmus had put in his hair, washed his hands and brushed his teeth again. This done, he reentered the bedroom, where Cadmus was anxiously waiting, and sat down on the edge of his bed.

"Dad?" he ventured, in a very small voice. "Do you need to see a doctor?"  
Phidias whipped his head around to look at his son, who was studying him with a worried expression. He reached out one hand to soothe him.  
"No, Caddy, I'm fine. It didn't go well, but it didn't go horribly."  
Caddy relaxed a little, but still looked worried.  
"Well, what happened?"

Phidias exhaled and dropped his head into his hands.  
"I mrmmrm im m mrm mmrmr."  
Caddy wrinkled his brow.  
"What?"  
Phidias raised his head.  
"I punched him in the face. There. Are you happy?"  
Cadmus looked more startled than anything.  
"Why on earth did you do that?!"  
"It was an accident. I overreacted."  
"...to what?!"  
"He moved kind of funny."  
"...."  
"I thought he was attacking - look, it's over. Can we let it go now?"  
"Was he mad?"  
Caddy's voice was tinged with fear.  
"No, he actually was very nice about it. I think his nose was only a little bit broken. He said it would be OK." Phidias reflected for a moment. "Didn't ask me for a second date, though."

Caddy stared at his dad a second longer, then began laughing hysterically. Phidias bristled a little for a moment, then gave in and laughed along with his son.  
"Dad." Cadmus said, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes, "You keep this up, and I won't have to worry about siblings: I really will be an only child forever."


	11. March 7

Carrier History and Ethics was Phidias' morning class, and it was taught in one of the large lecture halls in the Centre's newest building. The new building, named Sexton Hall after some local celebrity or the other that Phidias could barely remember, had been built on a gloriously green hill that overlooked the rest of the campus. It had been built in the Georgian style, something Phidias had never quite favored but which nonetheless did give a particularly romantic look to the Brookham landscape.

Phidias took his time going up the hill, meandering across the grassy rise. In these moments - these brief, bright flares of carelessness and solitude, he was able to send himself away; he could imagine himself back on his own campus again, crossing between his office and the classroom in which he'd taught his ten o'clock class. In his mind, he smelt the waft of the coffee he always carried; felt the weight of his bookbag and the tug of his jacket where it was tight across his shoulders; shivered where he imagined the crisp breeze blowing downwind as he walked. In these quick, stolen moments, Phidias was free.

Then he finished his crossing and found himself merging with the crowd of entering carriers at the door of the lecture hall. Inside, the rush of people seemed to find its own direction, and for a moment, he felt that childhood nervousness seize him. He scanned the crowd, hoping to find a friend. Relief came when Sheridan, one of the carriers he'd met through his counselor's lunch group, cleared a space for him in the last row of seats and waved him over. Phidias made his way to the southern rear side of the hexagonal classroom, taking up the empty desk beside Sheridan.

Sheridan Waters was one of the youngest and most exuberant members of the group that Phidias had been brought into by his counselor. Sher was 34, which made him just over two years younger than Phidias, and he - like Phidias and all other thirtysomething carriers - had been placed in the Accelerated Adjustment Program. This meant that, like Phidias, he was subjected to daily private counseling; placed in advanced and accelerated classes and 'adjustment seminars'; had to submit weekly reports on his psychological state and personal activities; was required to attend bi-monthly health checkups and submit to random drug testing; and was placed in Accelerated Matching - the Centre's palatable term for mandatory dating. Phidias had five months left on his deadline. Sheridan only had three.

Outside of the time differential, however, the only major differences between Sheridan and Phidias' lives in the Centre were Cadmus, and Sheridan's far superior ability to cope. As soon as they sat down, Sheridan smiled brightly and pulled two apples from his bag, offering Phidias one.  
"Good morning, Sunshine! How was your weekend? You were AWOL for days - we thought you might never come back."

Frankly, Phidias didn't feel very much like talking, but the last thing he needed was to alienate one of the few friends he'd made at the Centre. Social capital was important in any society, and as of now, Phidias had very little. Best not to be cavalier with the little clout he had. Still, wanting to preserve his privacy, he just shrugged.

"Spent time with Cadmus. We played badminton on Sunday, after chapel."  
Sheridan leaned in, smiling conspiratorially as he took a small bite of apple and chewed it.  
"And Saturday? How was the _second_ date?"  
Phidias tried to smile politely, but he didn't really want to talk about this. Not any of it. Some days were good days, and he was keen to talk and flirt and tease as much as the rest, but other days were more difficult. Sometimes it was Emily; sometimes it was Cadmus; sometimes it was just the overwhelming helplessness. Today, it was homesickness.

He missed his job, and his colleagues, and his work and the smell of his office when he opened the door after a long time spent away. He still hadn't heard from the Centre about the review of his materials, and was beginning to doubt he ever would. His studies, he supposed, would have to go unfinished. Maybe Dr. Long could pass them on to someone else; someone who would work rightly on the projects, give them the care and attention they needed, see his theories through to their natural conclusion. Phidias felt a sort of misery welling up in his chest. He wondered how Alan was doing - they hadn't spoken in weeks. Not since the last time he'd been in the hospital. Phidias figured he should call. A noise brought him back to the present - Sheridan was tapping a pencil on his desk.

"Base to Alexander. Did you read me, Alexander?"  
Phidias shook himself out of his reverie.  
"Sorry, Dan. I just drifted there for a second."  
Worry flickered across Sheridan's face.  
"Gone somewhere alone again?"  
Phidias grinned ruefully.  
"Just thinking. It's fine. What were you saying?"  
"I was asking about the second date. I heard you punched the first one in the face."

Phidias had spent the latter part of his secondary education being home-(or boat- or train- or wherever-)schooled by his merchant parents, and afterwards, he'd gone on to a large university where he'd rushed through his undergrad, hardly speaking to anyone, doubling up his courses, and graduating before he'd turned 21. After that, he'd gone straight on to work on his master's, then his Ph.D.; it was there, while preparing his first ethnography for his dissertation, that he'd met Emily. Shortly thereafter, he had been preoccupied with work and marriage, then with family and Caddy.

So now, Phidias realized, at age 37, that he'd never _really_ belonged anywhere. He'd only briefly had a home, only rarely felt a sense of community. He'd had no cousins and brothers to grow up with; no one to shape a family culture. He'd had few longstanding friends and no enemies. He'd never been in a club, nor a fraternity, nor one of the elitist dining halls on any campus. With the exception of the islands where he'd spent almost three years with Em, he'd only rarely behaved as if he'd had a _life_. As a result of this peculiar condition, there were many things Phidias realized that he simply did not know. One of these things was the speed and ferocity with which rumors and information could spread across a small, highly social community.

"Where did you hear that?"  
Sheridan shrugged.  
"Lunch. It was hilarious, and so totally you."  
Phidias stiffened in his seat and rolled his apple tensely between his hands.  
"It was actually very much _not_ me. I'm not a violent person; it was an accident."  
Sheridan raised an eyebrow.  
"I know. Just like that cafeteria guard."  
Phidias flushed hotly red, embarrassed at the recollection.  
"That was different." he protested, but Sheridan wasn't really listening to him; he was busy wresting a napkin-wrapped package of cookies out of his shoulder bag instead.  
"Fuck. I'm so **hungry**. Breakfast sucks around here."

Sheridan finished his apple and hungrily devoured a cookie, then turned his attention back to Phidias.  
"So? The second date? Who was he? How'd it go?"  
The classroom was beginning to settle down; the instructor hadn't arrived yet, but a glance at the clock gave the time as five until; his arrival was imminent.  
"Awful. Worse than the first."  
Sheridan looked sincerely shocked.  
"Oh no! What - did you break his legs or something?"  
Phidias glared at Sheridan, then shook his head. The younger carrier paused.   
"He didn't...hurt you, did he?"  
Phidias frowned and shook his head again. Why did everyone keep asking him that?  
"No. He was just weird. Made me uncomfortable."

Sheridan nodded and finished a third cookie, then looked up and smiled at someone. Phidias followed his eyes to where James, another of the carriers from their group, was approaching. James got to his seat on the other side of Phidias just before the lecturer breezed in, prepared to begin. The man at the front of the class cleared his throat, then began.

"Good morning, Carriers. We'll pick up today where we left last week. So, continuing our discussion, I ask you: In what situations may consent to sexual activity be considered a non-necessity?"

~:~

"Adrian?"  
Caddy was tapping his arm, and Adrian turned his attention to him.  
"Yeah, Caddy? What's up?"  
"Adrian, I think you should check on Ashby."  
Cadmus looked worriedly between his peer group leader and the door to the small bathroom that was adjacent to their homeroom.  
"I don't know why, but I think something's wrong."

Adrian glanced around his class; his five other kids were all hard at work on making a mess out of their craft pieces. A few paintbrushes appeared to be broken. Lee's hair was covered in glitter. They'd be fine for a few minutes. Adrian patted Cadmus' shoulder.

"Thanks, Caddy. I'll go knock and see if he's alright. You just stay here and finish your birdhouse, OK?"  
Cadmus nodded, but his worried look didn't ease.  
"He's been in there a while."  
Adrian gave him a reassuring smile.  
"OK. He's fine, I'm sure. I'll go check on him."  
Caddy nodded, but watched Adrian as he crossed the room to the small wooden door, then knocked.

The first knock didn't get a response. Concerned, Adrian knocked again, more forcefully.  
"Ashby? Are you alright in there, sweetheart?"  
There was a shifting sound, then a hesitant voice. Adrian's heart sped up a little.  
"Adri - Adrian, I'm bleeding."  
Adrian exhaled in relief. A minor crisis. He changed his voice to soothing.  
"OK, Ashby, we talked about this, remember? Do you remember what I told you in health class? How to handle this?"  
Ashby didn't answer for a minute.  
"It's not - I'm not bleeding from _there_ , Adrian."  
Panic rose up in Adrian's throat. He tried the door; locked. What jackass put locks on a kids' bathroom?  
"OK. OK, Ashby. Can you let me in so I can help you? Where are you bleeding from?"

There was a long pause, long enough for Adrian to look around frantically to try to figure out how he could get the door open. His eyes alighted on Cadmus, who still stood where Adrian had left him, eyes on Adrian and worry on his face. A guilty, quiet voice filtered out from underneath the bathroom door.  
"My wrists."

Adrian felt like he'd been thrown off a cliff.

"Ashby, I need you to open the door."  
"I can't."  
"Ashby, open this door right now, please."  
"Adrian - "  
"Ashby, OPEN THE GODDAMN DOOR!"

The class stopped what they were doing and all turned to look at him. For three seconds, nothing happened. Adrian threw himself against the door, rattling it in its frame. It didn't open. The kids all gathered in a semi-circle, too enthralled to leave, but too frightened to come closer.

"Ashby, please." It was Cadmus this time - he had come forward, out of his trance, and was now kneeling on the floor by the doorway so that the knob was at eye level. "It's Caddy. _Please_ , Ashby, let Adrian in. Please? Open the door, Ashby. Ashby, open the door. Open the door, Ashby."

Caddy knelt there, just repeating the whole thing like a mantra while Adrian rushed to the phone by the door and called for a chaperone, for medics and backup and told them Code Maroon.

The door creaked open. Ashby stood in the middle of the bathroom, framed by the light. His wrists, sleeves, and shirt were all stained with blood, and it just kept dripping, a slow leak down his arms. There were spots on the floor. Nobody moved; nobody touched him. Ashby was hiccuping tears, wetness flowing freely down his face.  
"I'm sorry." he tried to draw in a breath but failed and shorted himself. "I'm sorry, Adrian, I'm sorry. I'm sorry - "  
There were a pair of sharp pink craft scissors dangling from his right hand.  
"I'm sorry. I just wanted to die. I'm sorry."

Then there was a great thundering noise and the door to the classroom burst open and swarms of people were pushing all their way in - medics and officers and the big blank-faced chaperones which scared the children and commands were shouted and barked and Caddy looked up just in time to catch a glimpse of Ashby's terrified face before the chaperones strapped him to the gurney and the medics wheeled him off.

They were gone in less than a minute, and the boys were left standing in a semi-circle in their classroom, all of them staring at Adrian. An officer and an older carrier stood beside him. The officer was asking questions in a low voice. Cadmus looked back at the ground, at the blood from Ashby.

"Why would he want to die?" he asked no one in particular. "He's a carrier."

Abruptly, the older carrier clapped his hands to call the attention of the class.  
"Boys! Let's all get back to work. We've got better things to do, I'm certain, than stand around and gawk at each other!" the carrier smiled broadly and led the group back over to their craft tables. "What colors shall we make the birdhouses?"

Caddy, unsure what to do, stared at the blood for a few minutes more, until the carrier's censuring voice startled him. He looked up to Adrian, but Adrian and the officer were gone. The other carrier stood above him, hands on his hips, looking with amused disapproval down at Cadmus.  
"You too, Inspector Alexander. Stop thinking so much and come make your birdhouse."

~:~

That night, Cadmus seemed withdrawn as he sat in the apartment after dinner. Phidias prodded him, trying to get him to open up, but his son refused. After a while, Phidias gave up and they moved on to quiet evening activities. Phidias kept one eye on his son, sure that Cadmus would talk in his own time.  
Suddenly, he did.

"Dad, if I ever...go crazy?" he began, looking over to his dad to be sure he was listening. Phidias put down his book and looked up at his son.  
"Yeah?"  
Cadmus bit his lip.   
"Just don't..." he trailed off as he squinted at the book's cover. "What are you reading?"  
Phidias rolled his eyes.  
"The Surren - look, it's for a class. What were you saying? Don't do what?"  
Caddy seemed to focus on something off in the distance again.  
"Just don't let me hurt myself, will you?"  
Phidias was silent, but his heart beat loud.  
"Have you been thinking about hurting yourself, Caddy?"  
Caddy shook his head vigorously.  
"No. No. But...someone else did. Ashby."  
Phidias folded the book and set it aside.  
"Is that why you're sad?" he asked, gently. Cadmus nodded. Phidias' brow wrinkled a little. "I thought you hated Ashby."  
"I didn't want him to _kill himself_!" Caddy shouted, suddenly defensive. Then, more quietly: "I just wanted him to stop being mean to me."

Phidias took a breath in.  
"So Ashby's been thinking about hurting himself?"  
Caddy scoffed.  
"No. He did hurt himself. He cut his wrists today in art class."  
Phidias was stunned into silence for a minute.  
"Jesus, Caddy. Did you see it? I'm sorry."  
Phidias got out of his chair and went to sit on the bed beside Cadmus. He put one hand on his shoulder.  
"Are you OK?"  
Caddy shrugged the hand off.  
"Dad, I'm fine. I'm not the one who tried to off himself."  
Phidias guessed that was logical enough.  
"But sometimes..."  
"Yeah?"  
"But sometimes I think maybe something might be wrong with me."  
Phidias tried to appear calm.  
"OK. What makes you think that, Cadmus?"  
"It's not...because I want to die or anything, it's just that sometimes I think I'm weird."  
"Weird?"  
Caddy fiddled with the hem of his natori for a minute, clearly torn about whether or not to go on.  
"Dad, sometimes I talk to Mom."  
Phidias nodded.  
"That's OK. I talk to her, too."  
Caddy shook his head.  
"OK. But sometimes, when I talk to Mom, I feel like she answers."  
Phidias raised an eyebrow, but shrugged.  
"Well, Caddy. Sometimes I feel that way, too."  
Cadmus stared at his dad.  
"Really?"  
Phidias nodded.  
"Yeah. Sometimes I feel like I can even hear her voice." A pang of longing hit him. "So unless you start seeing her places, I wouldn't worry about it. You just miss her. That's OK."

Caddy seemed to be relieved.  
"So I'm not...weird?"  
Phidias grinned playfully and shook his head.  
"No, you're still pretty weird. Fortunately, it's not because of Mom."  
Caddy grinned.  
"Gee, thanks, Dad."  
Phidias got back up and went back to his chair.  
"Hey, kiddo, no problem." He picked up the book again. "But, listen..."  
Caddy looked up.   
"If you ever feel different...if you feel like things get to be too much, or there's something you can't handle, or if you want to hurt yourself...just promise you'll come talk to me first, OK?"  
Cadmus smiled warmly at his dad.  
"OK." he said. "I promise."  
"Good."   
Phidias began to open the page he'd last dog-eared.  
"But, Dad? You gotta promise me the same, OK?"  
Phidias looked up at his son.  
"OK, Caddy. I promise."

~:~

Adrian called the base that night and asked Sean if he could come over. Sean did, without question or protest, and when he slid his passkey into the door of Adrian's room, the carrier met him at the door, already naked and in tears.  
"Fuck me?" he managed.  
Sean stepped into the room, kicked his boots off, and locked the door.

He was going deep with every thrust, fucking Adrian until his balls slapped against the younger man's ass, and he knew he had to be hurting him, but Adrian just squeezed his legs around Sean's back and bit down on his lip and told him not to stop. Sean slid one hand between them, but Adrian took it firmly and pushed it away, and Sean couldn't bring himself to try again because Adrian felt good, so good, and Sean was tired and all he wanted was to empty himself into his boyfriend and ride his peak all the way into sleep. He changed his angle and Adrian cried out, then bit it down and slapped Sean's ass, telling him to keep going, that it was fine. Sean knew it wasn't, so he did the best thing he could think of under the circumstances and came, hard, pouring himself into the stoic carrier beneath him.

He lay, panting, atop Adrian for a minute before he realized that his fiancée was crying again - hard, serious sobs against Sean's bare shoulder. Sean moved to roll off of him, but Adrian resisted and whined when he tried to pull his cock out, and so he just stayed where he was for a moment, trying to keep half his weight off Adrian, letting his lover cry. When he was too sensitive to stand the pressure, he gently unwrapped Adrian's arms and moved them into a more comfortable position.

"Do you want to talk about it?"  
"Ashby tried to kill himself." Adrian wiped his face with the corner of a pillowcase. "I should have been watching him. I didn't know. I didn't even know."  
Sean shushed him.  
"You couldn't have known he would do that, sweetheart. You couldn't have known."  
"But he's so little, he's just a little kid. Why would he...?"  
Adrian went off into sobs again.  
"Because it's hard. And sometimes things get hard and we need other people to help us deal with them."  
Adrian shook his head.  
"I'm going to be a horrible mom."  
"No, you're not."  
Sean kissed his forehead.  
"I hate you."  
"No, you don't."

Sean curled up with him that way, holding him and trying to ease his pain, until Adrian fell asleep and Sean had to leave to get back to the base. In the morning, Adrian got up like normal to go and teach his class.


	12. March 15

"Hi, Ashby. Welcome back."

Adrian smiled warmly at his student, taking care not to show any aversion, no pity or worry or any emotion that might injure the young man. Ashby had been gone just a week - in the past, the same sort of rehabilitation could have taken months. Adrian thanked the advancement of carrier studies for his pupil's swift return, then put out his hand to take the package Ashby was offering him.

"What's this?"  
The young blonde shrugged and rubbed his arm at the elbow.  
"It's, um...it's my medicine."  
Adrian looked up at him. There were seven bottles of pills in the bag.  
"Oh. Okay. Do you need to take this right now?"  
Ashby shook his head.  
"No, I just - um, I have to take it four times a day? And the doctors said I should give my daytime stuff to you, because I'm not allowed to have it."

Adrian nodded and took it with him over to the locked medical cabinet above the emergency sink in the corner.  
"OK. Let me call and find out your schedule, for when you're supposed to take it, and in the meantime I'll put it away, OK?"  
Ashby nodded and looked relieved, but when Adrian turned back from the cabinet, the boy hadn't moved. Adrian met his eyes.  
"What's wrong, Ashby?"  
Ashby bit his lip, his hands clenching and unclenching in small fists by his sides.  
"They know." Adrian resisted the urge to point out that of course 'they' knew - 'they'd' all been there. Ashby's eyes seemed a bit damp. He clenched his fists again, repeatedly. "They all know, and they're going to make fun of me."

The malicious part of Adrian felt there may be some measure of justice in this - it wasn't as if Ashby had ever been the most charitable of students, and certainly he'd been at the head of more than enough bullying himself. This same malicious part of Adrian wanted to offer the boy no comfort, to say nothing kind to him at all. The malicious part of Adrian wanted to see Ashby hurt. Luckily, the malicious part of Adrian did not get a chance to speak. Caddy interrupted him.

"No, they won't, Ashby." he was standing behind the blonde, wearing a charcoal-smudged apron, one arm occupied with carrying the life-size doll he'd been practicing diaper changes on. Ashby turned, chest heaving, eyes wide as if Caddy were some ghost, an apparition; some vision of an unexpected savior. Caddy reached out the other arm to his classmate, his expression steady and voice calm. "It's OK." he promised. "They won't make fun of you. I won't let them."

~:~

"I fold. And I hate you. And I'm never playing poker again."  
Sheridan crossed his arms over his chest and theatrically turned his head away. James chuckled, eyes still on his own cards.  
"This is Go Fish."  
"Whatever."  
James shrugged.  
"Well, to tell you the truth, I'm getting a little tired of the game myself, and kind of hungry. Anyone up for a mid-morning break?"  
Sheridan nodded and began stacking the cards.  
"Always. Do you want a meal or will the snack room do?"  
"Snack room's fine; I can read the paper there, anyway. Well, what's left of the paper after the censors have gotten to it. Phidias, snack room OK?"  
Phidias shook his head and handed his cards over to Sheridan.  
"Makes no difference to me; I'm not really hungry."  
James tilted his head slightly.  
"But you didn't eat breakfast."  
Phidias shrugged.  
"Never have."  
"Skipped lunch yesterday, too."  
Phidias flushed.  
"Alright. Well, I haven't had much of an appetite lately. Is that a crime?"  
Sheridan and James exchanged glances.

To tell the truth, he'd been miserable over Caddy, desperately missing Emily, and homesick for his job.

"You pregnant?" Sheridan asked bluntly. Phidias scoffed.  
"Not possible. I'm just not hungry."  
James was quietly gathering his notebook and sunglasses, and preparing to get up from the table.  
"Hmm. I am."  
"Hungry?" Sheridan asked idly, "Yes, we know. Heard you the first time. We're leaving for the snack room now."  
James laughed a little.  
"No. The other thing."

Both Sheridan and Phidias froze; Sheridan with surprise, Phidias with poorly-concealed horror.  
"What?!" Sher cried. "Since when?! By who?!"  
James reddened a little, but still smiled.  
"Um, three weeks, and...it was Harley. Actually."

There was silence. On Phidias' end, it came from the fact that he had no idea who Harley was. On Sheridan's end, it came from the fact that he knew exactly who Harley was.

"But...he..."  
James looked up at Sheridan with a hard look.  
"He what?"  
Sheridan hesitated.  
"Is that...what you want?"  
James set his jaw and gave a tight-lipped little smile.  
"It's done, Sher. Not exactly un-doable."  
Sheridan looked like he wanted to say more, but fell silent instead. James swallowed, and glanced at Phidias, who was looking away.  
"It's happy news." he said at last. "So we should celebrate."   
Then he turned on his heel and left the room.

~:~

Phidias had gotten a note after lunchtime telling him that his private counseling session had been postponed. After that, the note gave no further information: just a room number and a time, both circled in red. He had seven minutes.

The door was blue, and unmarked save its number. Phidias twisted the paper nervously in his hands for a minute before raising one fist to knock. A chaperone opened the door before he could, and he was left standing there, feeling dumb, with his fist raised like a rebel in front of him. The chaperone stared. He went in.

There was no one else in the room. Just a desk, empty of papers, and a chair on other side. And a clock. Phidias looked up nervously at the clock. His appointment time came and went. Time was ticking. The chaperone hadn't moved from the door. Phidias picked at the skin on the side of his left thumbnail. Why was he here? For what? Who wanted him? Waiting like this made every second seem like an eternity.

The door opened with such force and such suddenness that Phidias actually jumped, and turned around to peer through his glasses at what the hell might be coming in behind him. There was one man, flanked by two chaperones. And he looked pissed. Fear fought confusion for control of Phidias' mind. The man went to the opposite side of the table, leaving the door gaping open behind him. The first chaperone closed it.

The man flew past, followed by his own two chaperones, who spread out behind him. As they passed Phidias in the small room, he realized that they were men - not chaperones at all. This thought dawned on him with a sizeable amount of shock - chaperones were built and designed beasts of men; titans of muscle and mindless. To see men of equal size and blank face frightened him. He jerked his hands to his lap. The angry man, who now looked tiny in comparison to the giant men behind him, glared at Phidias and dropped a folder down on the empty desk.

"Do you know who I am, Phidias Alexander?"  
Phidias blinked.  
"DO YOU KNOW WHO THE FUCK I AM, PHIDIAS ALEXANDER?!"

Phidias turned once to look behind him, wondering if there was still an open door; this was a mistake. He was met, upon turning back, with the sharp side of the little man's fist. Phidias nearly fell out of the chair, taken completely by surprise by the blow. He looked up at the man in bewilderment. The man was calmly readjusting his tie.

"You will _not_ look away from me for any reason, Carrier."  
Phidias stared at the man, who leaned over the table now, spreading his hands on either side of the cast-down folder between them.  
"My name is Officer Ivan Kosin. And you are in a lot of trouble."

~:~

Sean met Adrian outside of his doctor's appointment promptly at 1400 hours. The carrier startled upon seeing his fiancé there, but shook off his irritation and leaned up to kiss the other man's cheek.  
"How good of you to come with me. How did you know?"  
Sean smiled.  
"Called in and checked your schedule, sweetie."  
Adrian bit back a snippy remark. There was no room for that now; there were bigger matters at hand. They began to walk the short distance down the hall to the appropriate room.

Outside of the private examining room, Adrian paused and turned to Sean.   
"You don't have to do this, you know."  
Sean frowned.  
"Yes, I do. This is what a Dothan man does. We do this, Adrian."  
Adrian looked at the floor, then up at his mate.  
"Other people go to these things alone all the time."  
Sean's eyes sparked and his face took on a determined set.  
"Other people aren't us, Adrian."

There was a pause, and the soldier cocked his head, examining his fiancée as if he might be an impostor.   
"What's gotten into you?"  
Adrian fiddled with the appointment sheet in his hand and looked not-at Sean.  
"Nothing. I don't know what you mean."  
"I mean everything. From the beginning. First you run away from home like some kind of wildcat in heat. Then I come after you and you send me off. I give you space and you go and do something stupid like trying to marry _someone else_. Not even one of us! Then you finally get a chance to get your act together, and now suddenly you seem like you can't be bothered." Sean narrowed his eyes at Adrian. "Don't you _want_ to go back home, Adie? Don't you _want_ to be a part of Dothan?"  
Adrian bit his lip and stared at the ground, feeling guilty and foolish and trapped all at once.  
"Of course I do."  
Sean Wick shook his head.  
"Adrian," he said, his voice taking on that firm but patient tone that the carrier had heard his father use all his life. "Then you've got to act like it." Sean stepped forward and touched his cheek. "I am your husband, and I am coming to the exam with you."

~:~

The veins strained in Kosin's forehead. Phidias was mesmerized by them.  
"Would you care to explain, carrier," - he put a special distasteful emphasis on that word - "Just what the hell you were thinking with this?"

With one finger, Kosin flipped open the folder on the table to reveal Gender Stratification in the ... Phidias knew immediately. It had been his last project: the beginnings of a thorough inquiry into the extent and effects of gender on life quality in the southern half of the Union. Dr. Long had praised it, called it clear and unforgiving. Suddenly, the reality of what he was doing in this room came crashing down on him. There was only one way out.

"I - I'm sorry, sir, I wasn't a carrier at the time, I didn't know exactly what - "  
"Save it."  
Kosin's voice was sharp. He got to his feet, took off his jacket. Phidias' heart began to palpitate a little.  
"It wasn't meant to be subversive. It wasn't meant to be anything. I'm not a saboteur, I have a good behavior record, I'm in an accelerated program, I wasn't - "

Kosin handed his jacket to one of his large men. Phidias' mouth felt dry. Kosin began to unbutton his sleeves and roll them up. Phidias tried to swallow.

"I wasn't causing trouble."  
"You asked to have your files brought here."  
"I forgot! I didn't realize! I've written so many papers - I forgot it was even in there. But it's not my project anymore, I don't need it - please, you can just throw it out!"  
Kosin laughed, a short hyena's laugh.  
"Oh, I will throw it out, Phidias. But before I do that, you and I are going to have a little talk."  
Kosin withdrew a skinburn from his pocket and held it out to him. Phidias knew what this was. He hoped Caddy didn't. He hoped they hadn't gotten to Caddy.  
"Put it on."  
Phidias shook his head reflexively. He couldn't imagine a worse pain.  
"No...no, please don't do this, I wasn't - "  
Kosin's expression darkened.  
"Put it **on** , carrier."

Phidias stared at the dangling strip of latex. Panic was in him, over him, engulfing him. He felt helpless, suddenly - weak. Had they gotten to Caddy? He hadn't even thought to check. The latex swung lightly where it hung in front of him. It was going to hurt. Phidias shook his head again.  
"I - I can't."

He didn't even see Kosin make a motion, but suddenly the two giant men were moving, and as he tried to track them with his eyes, Kosin attacked him from the front. It felt like he was getting hit everywhere at once. Kosin hit him in the gut and his stomach lurched. The men were at his shoulders, his ribs, his thighs. Kosin shouted at one who aimed too high - spare the face, he heard him say, leave his face alone.

Then there was the hair-pulling tightness of the latex band being snapped over his wrist, and Phidias had half a second to worry before his world enveloped into searing pain. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't do anything but cry out and try to escape the agony. He didn't know how long he lay there, writhing on the bare cement floor, the skinburn broadcasting its fire-torture across his entire body, and still managed to be conscious. Then suddenly the pain seemed to retreat - to pull back from his skin, away. Kosin had one hand on his wrist. The man looked into Phidias' eyes.

"Don't you _ever_ try to undermine this government again."

Then the hand moved again and the agony was back, fierce and hungrier than ever. The last thing Phidias remembered before he passed out was seeing was Kosin's expressionless face appear over him, then disappear as the man very calmly walked away.

~:~

That afternoon, Adrian and Sean Wick decided on the name Jonah.

~:~

When Phidias came to again, he was in the infirmary and he had an envelope laid across his right hand. He tried to move - his skin seemed to ache. His glasses were missing. With some struggle, he managed to slip a thumbnail under the flap and open the envelope enough to remove a folded group of papers. With shaking hands, Phidias unfolded them and peered at the first one; it appeared to be a list of some sort, printed neatly on the letterhead of the Office of the Chief Investigator.

1: The authority of the CEC and the Investigator's Office are to be respected, at all times, in all circumstances. Further violations of the rules, regulations, and expectations of either will be considered a punishable offense.  
2: You will not be found in possession of any artifacts relevant to your previous work. Such action will be considered a punishable offense.  
3: You will wear a natori, the clothing of your station. Possession of conflicting articles will be considered a punishable offense.  
4: In light of your recent reevaluation, this office has elected to reduce your match timeline to two months, expiring May 15. We extend our best wishes and offer our full support in your Accelerated Matching.

 

Tucked behind the letter was a red flyer that instructed him where and when to surrender the remainder of his contraband items. He crumpled it and threw it to the side. Folded in last was a single-sheet letter, also brief and printed on letterhead. Phidias scanned it, but in his confused state, couldn't make sense of it. He re-read the opening line:

 _Regarding your request for continuation of previous employment..._

Phidias scanned to the bottom of the sheet; a red stamp above the signature read 'Denied, Appeal Prohibited.' The letter was signed by Kosin.


	13. March 20

Monday was Phidias' first day back. Although the pain had faded the day after Kosin had released him, Phidias hadn't seemed to be able to manage coming out of his room for another four days. For the first time since he'd come to the Center, he had cried.

On the second day, Dr. Alan Long had sent him a message:  
Men have come by the Institute; your papers are gone. I couldn't save them.

And Phidias had felt like his whole world was falling apart. _Men_ ; such a simple word, spoken so insidiously, with so much meaning, so much depth, so much unspoken and unexpressed in those three small letters comprising one word. Phidias crumpled up the message and flushed it, to be sure he couldn't be punished for having it.

Caddy had taken him home from the infirmary. He'd supported himself, skin still aching like he had some kind of crazy flu, on his son's small shoulders. Caddy wasn't growing as fast as he had once been, Phidias noticed. At their room, he kissed his son's head and went to sleep in his own bed. Then next day, they'd emptied every room, every drawer and unpacked box and storage case and filled up red bags labeled Contraband. Phidias had saved one thing, unable at the moment to let it go. When they came to take his things, he handed them his dissertation last. Then he went into the bathroom and gracefully retched for fifteen minutes. Afterwards, Caddy had come in angry and laid him out. It was Phidias' fault, naturally, that they were in this situation again. If it hadn't hurt so bad to breathe, Phidias felt he would have laughed at the absurdity. But underneath it, he understood - Caddy wasn't angry. Caddy was afraid. Phidias had apologized and Caddy had made him an iced tea and left and Phidias hadn't seen his son for six more hours.

 

On Monday, he went to class, seminar, and lunch. James walked on eggshells around him. Sheridan refused to.

At lunch, Phidias picked at his eggs and felt listless. He fidgeted in his natori and counted the little blue dots in the glass jar in front of him. He still had five pain pills left from what they'd given him at the hospital. Briefly, he thought about taking all of them and felt immediate guilt. He turned the bottle backwards so he wouldn't have to look at it. Shyly, James asked if he could have one or two. Phidias hesitated; he worried about the pregnancy. James assured him that they weren't going to be taken, just sold. At Phidias' look of surprise, James shrugged his shoulders and sheepishly said,  
"Well, they won't let us work. My savings are spent. We've got to make extra money somehow."

~:~

"Oh, come on - just try it! It'll look so cute!"  
"Yeah, Adrian, pleeeease?"  
"Just one time!"  
Adrian stared in horror at the multitude of small hands descending upon him, each bearing glittery sticks of temporary hair color. Only Caddy and Ashby refrained, standing to the side and watching in a mixture of interest and amusement.

Ten minutes later, and the class collectively decided that Adrian looked perfect. He got up to look in the mirror himself, and immediately burst into laughter. The kids grinned, delighted that he seemed to be enjoying himself as much as they were. Adrian couldn't stop himself from laughing. Sean was absolutely going to love this.

~:~

Private counseling was short because Phidias wouldn't speak. He sat down in the room, handed the counselor his letter, crossed his arms over his chest and refused to respond to any questions. After twenty minutes, the counselor let him go.

Union Law & Carrier Legislation was the last class of the afternoon. There were evening seminars (tonight was another one on fellatio, a topic of which Phidias was frankly sick), but those began late, and so there were some spare hours until then, so Phidias, James, and Sheridan picked a particularly quiet spot in the greenhouse, and spent an hour sitting together, finishing up some required reading. Around 4:30, James announced that Harley was going to come and pick him up from the West Gate in less than an hour. Sheridan blanched a little at this and said he'd see them later, but James caught his wrist and looked up at him so beseechingly that he stayed.

"Just walk me out there. Say hi to him. I want him to like you." James looked down at the ground, then up at Sheridan. "I couldn't stand it if he didn't let us be friends."  
Sheridan wavered for a minute.  
"Fine." he said finally. "But Phidias comes, too."  
James looked over at Phidias, who looked up over the edge of his book.  
"Suits me. The more, the merrier. Maybe Harley will bring a friend."

~:~

Officer Sean Wick flipped his fucking shit the minute he saw Adrian.  
"What the **hell** did you do to your hair?"  
Adrian frowned for a second, trying to gauge his fiancé's reaction.  
"What the hell did you do?!" Sean repeated, furious.

Adrian backed away from him.  
" _Nothing_ , Sean, it's a joke, the kids did it, it's just fun, it comes out, it - "  
Sean exhaled, but remained tense.  
"You don't ever change your appearance like that unless you ask me first."  
Anger simmered in Adrian. He crossed his arms over his chest.  
"I was under the impression that that particular carrier law was abolished five years ago."  
Sean's fist shot out and slammed into the wall next to Adrian's head. His other hand pointed fiercely in the carrier's face. Adrian didn't flinch.  
"And we don't live by those secular laws, do we?" Sean pulled back, but still glared at his fiancée. "Temporary or not, fix it. Now."

Adrian felt the urge to resist, stronger than he could control.  
"My father wouldn't have cared."  
Sean was back in his face immediately, his expression strained.  
"And your father," he snarled, "Is not here now. Go and wash your fucking hair out."

When Adrian returned from his shower, Sean was sitting on the bed with his belt in his hand.  
"Come lie down."  
Adrian rolled his eyes and tightened the towel around his waist.  
"For what? Some marital discipline? For breaking the rules of Dothan?"  
Sean sighed.  
"It's the ninth law, Adrian. You know this."  
Adrian scoffed and began drying his hair with the towel around his neck.  
"And am I to believe you're a Revivalist now?"  
Sean just stared at him.  
"You've been away from Dothan a long time, Adrian."  
Adrian stared back.  
"So have you."  
Sean shook his head.  
"But I've kept up. The Revivalists are the majority now, Adrian." Adrian paused in toweling his hair and peeked out from under the cloth at Sean. Sean looked evenly up at Adrian. "And I am in the majority."  
The young officer looked meaningfully back at the bed.  
"So come. Lie. Down."


	14. March 24

Having a substitute group leader sucked. Caddy flipped his pencil idly over in his hands and did his best to pretend to be listening. They were in the green room - the room they never used because it was dull and had no windows and was gray and green and only had desks and a chalkboard in it anyway. Adrian never made them take classes in the green room. And Adrian never made them do this kind of stuff. It was boring, it was time-consuming, and furthermore, they weren't ever even really going to use it. Caddy glared at the chalkboard, on which hundreds of white scribbles made a sort of crazy mosaic across the wall. Caddy hadn't really liked this stuff, even as a kid, and so when he'd changed and come here and Adrian had assured him they'd go easy on the math in carrier school, he'd actually felt a little relieved. And now they had this stupid substitute, who had a stupid haircut and stupid rules about what you could say and used stupid words like "indoctrination" and now was making them do stupid math. Caddy wanted Adrian back.

Beside him, Ashby had given up all pretense of attention - he was very calmly and very meticulously using a set of markers to paint his nails. Around the room, the kids were in various stages of ennui - some were gazing blankly at the board, one was trying not to fall asleep, two were reading other things (probably those vulgar books that Caddy hated because they made him feel uncomfortably damp), and the only others left were Caddy and Ashby.

Caddy leaned over to his classmate.  
"This is such a waste of time. I wish we had Adrian back."  
Ashby glanced at him and rolled his eyes.  
"Whatever, Cadmus. Don't act like you're not into this."  
Caddy was genuinely surprised.  
"What? I'm not! I hate math!"  
Ashby shrugged.  
"Well, for hating it, you still manage to answer all his questions."  
Caddy reddened.  
"Well, I learned it before. My dad made me. Doesn't mean I liked it, though."  
Ashby rolled his eyes again and picked up the purple marker.  
"See, that proves my point. You're just like your dad - all this smart thinking stuff is just in your blood." Ashby examined one purple nail. "You can't fight it. You'll always be too smart for your own good."

Caddy felt and irrationally strong desire to slap all the markers off of Ashby's desk, and decided instead to ignore him. He was starting to think that being nice to some people was just a waste of time.

~:~

"Adrian!" Ren called out in exasperation. "Can you _please_ put Matthew down and come here so we can work on this??"

Adrian stopped where he was, lifting his youngest brother, Matthew above his head for a helicopter ride. Ren came and stood in the doorway, his hair tied up in a silk scarf which hung down around his shoulders, and one hand on his hip. It was early afternoon, and the Main House at Woodacre had just cleared out from lunchtime. The kids had been sent back to class or their mothers, the men and some of the carriers had returned to work, and Ren and the other carriers had just finished cleaning up and washing dishes. Adrian had been on dish duty; Ren had been sweeping. But now, with the moment's work complete, they had a little free time, and Ren had decided that they needed to work on the wedding.

"You shouldn't be lifting him anyway; put him down."

Adrian did, hastily, feeling a little embarrassed - for one brief moment, he'd completely forgotten. Matthew giggled and squeezed his arms around Adrian's leg, then shrieked and ran as fast as his short legs would carry him in pursuit of Kylie, one of the young, recently-changed carriers, who had been trying to quietly sneak past the room. Ren seized this opportunity.

"Kylie! Sweetheart. Can you please take Matthew outside for a little while? I think June's got Neko and Darren out, and I think I heard Tré out there, too. See if they want to play, will you?"  
The young carrier, Kylie, hesitated, pausing where he was and glancing between the book in his hand and the small, squealing Matthew.  
"Actually, I was just going to - "  
"I'll tell your father how much you helped me out, and how you were absolutely on your best behavior. I bet he'll be delighted to hear how eager you were to learn some good carrier skills."  
Kylie put the book down immediately on a nearby table.  
"C'mere, Matty!" he called, holding his arms out for the small boy to scamper into them. Then, to Ren: "Is a couple of hours OK?"  
Ren smiled and saw them off, then turned to Adrian.

"Great. Now, you. Did you pick out any colors yet? We need to decide just how we're going to spend your father's money."  
Adrian twiddled the end of the braid he'd put his hair into and grinned. Some days, he was really, really glad that Ren has his stepmother.

~:~

Caddy came home exactly ten minutes after Phidias had gotten out of the shower, dropped his bookbag on the floor, and slammed the door behind himself. Phidias, who was standing at the single cooktop in his robe, stirring a pot of tea, raised one eyebrow and looked at him.

"Had a nice day?"  
Caddy glared daggers.  
"No! I had an awful day."  
"You're home pretty late."  
Caddy crossed into the bedroom and located Phidias' bed, then threw himself across it.  
"Yes! Because our stupid substitute made us stay late for class, and that made me late for dinner and that made me late for _everything_!"  
Phidias stopped the stirring and turned off the cooktop, setting the tea aside to cool.  
"Why?"  
"He took away our free time and made us learn extra stupid math!" Caddy propped himself up so that his complaints could be more emphatic. "And it's freaking Friday! We were gonna do stuff! There was a movie on in the new theater and he made us all miss it!"  
Phidias made a strange face.  
"Wait, he made you do extra math? Why? Were you behind?"  
Caddy rolled his eyes. He should have known his dad was going to be like this.  
"No, not extra math, regular math, and we're not behind - you don't **have** to learn stuff like that in carrier school, you know."  
Phidias shook his head in confusion.  
"No, I don't know. You don't have to learn stuff like what?"  
"Like...hard stuff. Physics and geometry and..."  
"That's hard? You got an A in geometry last year; you said it was 'practically the easiest math there is.'"  
" _Dad_! I'm not talking about geometry!"  
Phidias frowned.  
"But you said - "  
"I'm **talking** about stuff _like_ geometry!" Caddy took a breath and calmed himself. "Stuff that's very technical. You don't have to do it in carrier school because it's impractical. And it takes time away from stuff you really need to learn, like health and childrearing. And Adrian never makes us do it, but Adrian's gone for the weekend, and so we have this guy from Thursday until Tuesday, when Adrian gets back, and he sucks."

Cadmus looked over at his father. Phidias' expression shifted from confusion to understanding to horror. Realization was slowly beginning to dawn on him. But that was impossible...he tried to think back - hadn't he seen Caddy carrying books? Working on projects? Writing papers? Studying stuff? Hadn't he? The memories seemed fuzzy now. Phidias peered worriedly at his son through the lens of his glasses.  
"What have you been learning in school, Caddy?"  
Caddy judged immediately that his father was not going to take his side. He shrugged and rolled his eyes at the bedcovers.  
"I don't know - regular stuff. Health and History and all that stuff."  
"And what else?"  
Cadmus got to his feet suddenly.  
"What does it matter what else?! I learn stuff!"  
Phidias ignored the outburst.  
"What other subjects do you study?"  
Caddy crossed his arms over his chest.  
"Adrian is a good teacher..."  
"I'm sure he is. What does he teach you?"  
"...and I won't let you complain about him."  
"I won't. I'll complain about the bullshit he's teaching you."  
"See!" Cadmus threw his arms up. "This is exactly why I can't talk to you." he pushed past his father on his way into his own room. "I have to get dressed. I'm supposed to be going out tonight."

Phidias' expression grew surprised, then alarmed.  
" _Going out_? Where? With who?"  
From his bedroom, Caddy answered.  
"To the game room. With my group. We're in a tournament tonight."  
Phidias wrinkled his nose.  
"Of what?"  
"Pool! Dad! I told you this!"  
Phidias stuck his head in the doorway of Cadmus' room.  
"You know you have to use both geometry AND physics in order to play pool, right?"  
Cadmus ignored him.

Phidias exhaled and ran a hand across his face.  
"Well, you're going to miss out on all the fun, because I have two dates tonight."  
Caddy turned and looked at him over his shoulder as he changed shirts.  
"I know. Want some help?"  
Phidias grinned wryly.  
"I think you're a bit young for them, Caddy."  
His son rolled his eyes.  
"I mean help with getting dressed. For the first, I think you should wear the green one with a gray shirt. And then later, wear the dark red one, and a white shirt."  
Phidias raised an eyebrow.  
"I thought you told me red made me look like easy."  
Caddy grinned.  
"Desperate times call for desperate measures, don't they?"  
Phidias shook his head at his son's grim humor and went to go get dressed.

Phidias brushed his teeth at the sink and washed his face, then went to find his son again.  
"Anyway, be home when I get back. I don't want to have to come traipsing all over the Centre looking for you."  
Cadmus looked up from where he was packing things into his shoulder bag.  
"What if you don't come back?"  
Phidias paused, his stomach in his throat. He rinsed his mouth and recovered.  
"Don't be clever, Caddy. Come home anyway."  
There was a brief pause.  
"And don't think we're done talking about the school thing, either."  
Caddy rolled his eyes.  
"OK. You should wear your hair down."

Phidias looked at himself in the mirror. He'd always kept his hair a little bit long - Emily had liked that - but since he'd been at the Centre, it had grown to what he felt was a ridiculous length. Wearing it down meant it came to his shoulders, and between that and the natori, it made him feel incredibly sexualized and incredibly vulnerable. He hated it. Cadmus was looking at him.

"I know you don't like it, but you have to. Otherwise, it doesn't look as nice."

Caddy thought about adding that a little mascara wouldn't kill his father either, but he already knew what his dad's reaction would be to that, and so he left it alone. Phidias stared into the mirror for another minute, then reached back and pulled the elastic band out of his hair.

~:~

"So are you gonna come tonight, or what?" James was sitting at Sheridan's desk, the chair turned to face his friend. Sheridan shrugged.  
"I dunno."  
"You had a good time last time, right?"  
Sheridan concentrated intently on getting the knots out of a long chain necklace.  
"It was OK."  
"So come."  
Sheridan glanced up at James.  
"I don't know."  
There was silence for a moment.  
"He won't hurt you, you know." Sheridan didn't answer. "Soyinka's nice, and he's really smart. He writes books, you know?"  
Sheridan nodded.  
"I know."  
James licked his lips nervously.  
"Sher, it's getting close - "  
"I have more than a month left."  
James glared and continued.  
"Like I said, it's getting close - "  
"AND IT WILL CONTINUE TO GET CLOSE, JAMES!"  
Sheridan slammed one fist onto the table. James just stared at him. Sheridan stopped himself, took three deep breaths.  
"I'm sorry. Sorry. I - "  
"No." James was standing now, too. "No. Don't be sorry. Just tell me why. Tell me _why_ you want to keep doing this to yourself; to _me_."

Sheridan looked at his friend strangely, as if he couldn't comprehend what on earth his own problems had to do with James. James threw his arms up in exasperation.

"I care...a lot about you, Sheridan. Don't you get that? I care about you, and I _have_ you now, and I like having you, and I don't want to see you get hurt, and yet you're doing _this_ , you're risking this...thing that you don't even..."  
James was panting so hard with emotion that he had to take a moment to catch his breath. When he was calm again, he looked up at Sheridan resolutely. "You have to pick one. You have to do something. They're going to get more aggressive, you know. Every single one of them. These men - they're like _animals_. And you - silly you, you're so innocent that you don't even realize - this is a dangerous situation, Sheridan. Something must be done."

Sheridan stared at him and fingered the necklace that dangled down his chest.  
"Alright, James." he said, his voice smaller than usual, and more wary.  
"No!" James exploded, "Not 'alright!' I want **answers** , Sheridan. I want who, what, where, and when. I want to know you've got a plan for this. I want to know you're going to fix this. I want to know you won't leave me!"

Sheridan had a weird look on his face, as if he were made uneasy, frightened by this new side of his friend's character. James had never yelled at him before. James had never been angry with him before. James had never been this way before.

"I - I don't know."  
James stared at him, and his eyes were cold.  
"Then come with us tonight."  
Sheridan hesitated.  
"But - "  
"Please, Sher. Please. Just try?"  
Sheridan exhaled and looked up to meet James' eyes. It felt so strange, Sheridan reflected, sometimes, to have somebody care so much about him.  
"OK." he said. "OK. Fine. I'll try."  
James grinned, relief and elation and an amalgam of other things pasted across his face.  
"Excellent. I'll call Harley and tell him you'll come."

~:~

The first date seemed to go well enough. The guy was tall and surprisingly muscular, which Phidias found to be more intimidating than he'd allow himself to admit. They had a nice dinner in a private room at the CEC, then went out for conversation and a walk through the gardens around sunset. Phidias was just beginning to relax and really enjoy himself when the guy mentioned that he felt strongly that, should they make something serious of this, Caddy would have to stay behind at the CEC for at least a year, so that he and Phidias and he could focus on their marriage. Phidias checked him off the list immediately.

The second date was supposed to pick him up at 8; it was 8:09. Phidias shifted his feet and squeezed his legs together for warmth. April had gotten so much colder these days. It was no time to be wearing such a thin natori. But Caddy had picked it out, and insisted that it was perfect, that it brought out his eyes...

Just then, Phidias had a brief moment of detachment, of removal - he was standing in the bedroom with Emily; her hands were on his shoulders, smoothing down his shirt, telling him the dinner would be fine, that they would be fine...his hands went to her stomach and she giggled and touched his shirt. "I'm glad I bought it for you." she smiled, and her face was so close to his, "It brings out your eyes." And Phidias was there, he was there and he could see her, touch her, feel her warmth, smell her smell of apricots and warm honey...and she was gone.

The moment ended, as abruptly as those little moments with her always did, and Phidias suddenly found he was himself again, a lonely carrier standing out by the gates in the night, freezing his ass off in a fucking natori, waiting for his date to come pick him up. Misery came over him like a wave. His throat hurt and he shivered in his jacket.

Where the hell was this guy?

Phidias was just considering asking the chaperone to take him back inside when the sleek black car pulled around the corner and stopped. It was him.

~:~

Dr. Aaron Soyinka was, in fact, really nice. Somehow, in the business of remaining unattached, Sheridan had managed to forget this. He was a big man - enormous, to Sheridan - at 6'3", he had six inches and what seemed like a hundred pounds on Sher. Born in the Niger Delta, raised by an adoptive father in the A.W.N.S., he had impeccable manners, a spectacular service record, and a charming accent that reckoned the green hills of England. As a new graduate of the Royal Academy, he had taken advantage of the Union's Military Exchange program, and now, at 35 years old, had been in the country for exactly seven years.

They went for dinner first, at a little restaurant that had recently opened in an old Victorian mansion-turned-bed&breakfast. The home itself was beautiful, and Sheridan spent a blissful half hour before dinner just exploring the old-fashioned nooks and crannies and cooing over the architectural oddities. Soyinka followed behind like an oversized pup, letting Sheridan drag him around by his hand, their chaperone trailing them, a lopsided grin lighting up his face.

At one point, Sheridan's wanderings led them into an old maid's closet turned art gallery, and they lingered in there a minute, slowly browsing the photographs and watercolors. When Sheridan went to leave, Soyinka pressed him back against the wall next to the door and kissed him, leaning down to cover the six inches that separated them. Sheridan pulled back first, touching the back of his hand to his mouth. Soyinka tried to kiss him again, but was stopped with a hand to his chest.

"Don't..." Sheridan glanced towards the door, the hand on Soyinka's chest still keeping him away. "I don't, um..."  
Soyinka pressed forward and kissed him again anyway, and Sheridan panicked and resisted. Soyinka released his mouth, but kept him pressed against the wall with his body. Sheridan touched his mouth again, and Soyinka saw that his hand was trembling. He stroked Sheridan's hair with one hand.  
"Hush. I don't want you to be afraid of me."  
Sher looked like he was near tears.  
"Well, then, don't _do_ that. Don't push me around like that, please, Aaron. I really don't like it."  
Soyinka nodded.  
"OK. OK. I'm sorry. Here." he moved back a few inches - not enough to let Sheridan run, but enough to give him his own space. Sheridan took in a series of small breaths to try and calm down. Soyinka watched him.  
After a while, he spoke. "It must be very frightening to be in your position. I am sorry that I forgot that. It was not my intention to make you fear me."  
Sheridan didn't look at him, but a curt nod acknowledged the apology.  
"Is dinner ready yet?" he asked, still not looking at Soyinka. The big man nodded.  
"Most likely. Shall we go and find out?"  
Soyinka led him back to the dining room.

~:~

Henrik Angstrom was, Phidias decided, a particularly handsome man. In fact, he was exactly the sort of handsome that Phidias had always been slightly intimidated by, even before he'd changed. He was the refined kind of handsome, the timeless attractiveness - there was nothing flashy or temporal about Henrik's good looks. He had the classic square jaw, dark, thoughtful eyes that made him seem powerful and mysterious, smooth cheekbones and a straight forehead, all centered on a slightly Roman nose that lent a good deal of nobility to his countenance. His hair, dark and greying evenly, gave dignity and power to his face.

His body was particularly attractive; Henrik was well-kept for a man of almost 50, but not overly so; at 6'1", his body bore gracefully some of the gravity of age. Phidias figured him for perhaps a swimmer - his gait was easy and careful, and he always appeared to be gliding. Beside him, Phidias felt clumsy and insignificant. But Henrik didn't seem to mind. In fact, the date had gone particularly well thus far. Henrik, after profuse apologies for his lateness, had taken him first to dinner at one of the portside restaurants, usually unavailable to anyone but the highest ranking officers, and then afterwards had suggested they attend one of the evening lectures that were held as a part of a series in the on-base research center. The lectures were nearly impossible for carriers to get tickets to, let alone be granted subsequent passes to attend, and that night's lecture, Henrik had informed him, might be of particular interest to Phidias. It was on the cultural record created from a recent study of a Bronze Age archaeological site. If Phidias wanted, Henrik had offered, they could stop past the CEC and see if Cadmus would like to go as well. Phidias felt like he'd fallen in love right then and there.

In the end, they'd left Caddy out, but the lecture had been fantastic, and afterwards, they decided to spend a few hours discussing everything over coffee. Phidias told Henrik all about his old work (he still wasn't sure whether or not he was allowed to talk about this stuff, but Henrik promised he'd keep it a secret) and what he'd wanted to do in the future with it, and how he'd come to arrive at the CEC, and how it had affected his relationship with Caddy, and how much he missed his wife Emily, and exactly how he'd managed to avoid the military, and how many dates he'd been on and how they'd all gone wrong.

Henrik, in exchange, told Phidias a bit about himself. He was 51, raised in the Union by parents who had come from Nordia - Sweden, to be exact. He had one son, 21 years old, named Anders, and had no siblings. He loved any and all things chocolate, and in order to compensate for his sweet habit, he swam four times a week in his private swimming pool. Phidias had given him a curious look at this statement, and Henrik had smiled and said that he'd made his money through private industry. This intrigued Phidias even more, and so Henrik explained how he'd never gone into the military; he had instead gotten a degree in chemistry and gone on to establish a production laboratory on the outskirts of the city. Phidias asked him what kind of chemicals he produced. Henrik had answered vaguely, clearly not ready to talk about it, and Phidias had marked that, but let it pass.

After they'd run out of coffee, Henrik asked Phidias if he'd like to perhaps go for a drive somewhere. Phidias asked him where, and Henrik grinned and replied,  
"I have a small library in my home. If I have not already made too much of an imposition on your time, perhaps I could show it to you tonight."  
This made Phidias blush and stammer and Henrik immediately realized his mistake.  
"No, no. Phidias, I didn't mean to make any sort of advance. Your chaperone is perfectly welcome to attend. I just thought maybe at my home, we could...speak more freely. I ask nothing of you tonight. Nothing at all. But why don't you just come and sit with me in private for a while?"

~:~

At their table, their food was waiting for them. James and Harley had already been served; four plates sat on the table, and Harley had his blue suit jacket slung across the back of his chair; his sleeves were rolled up to the elbow. A new signet ring glistened on his right hand. There were three empty glasses, and a bottle of wine cooling by the table, on Harley's side. James just drank water. James and Harley both looked up at Soyinka and Sheridan's approach.

"Welcome back. Dinner's on." Harley grinned.

Sheridan tried to act normal, but being around Harley made him nervous as it was, and between that and his slight embarrassment about what had happened with Soyinka, he found it difficult not to be a little jumpy. Luckily, Soyinka covered for him, pulling out his chair and offering him a napkin for his lap, then offering and pouring the wine, all of this serving to give Sheridan a minute to get himself together.  
Harley was the first to speak.

"Did you enjoy your walk, Sheridan?"  
He spoke without malice, although he did cast one lingering glance over at Soyinka, who ignored it. Sheridan picked up his fork and answered quietly.  
"It was nice."  
Harley nodded.  
"I trust Soyinka entertained you?"  
Sheridan stiffened a little.  
"He did."

Soyinka cast an irritated glare at Harley, who didn't seem to notice and calmly took a bite of his steak. James looked anxiously between the two of them, and Harley reached over and gently covered James' hand with his own.

"Eat, sweetheart. Are you not hungry?" James shrugged and picked up his fork, picking listlessly at his meal. Harley furrowed his brow in concern. "Do you not like it? Want something else?"  
James shook his head.  
"No, it's fine. I'm just not all that hungry."  
James gave his fiancé a faltering smile.  
"I had a really big lunch."

Sheridan cocked his head. That seemed odd. James almost never ate a big lunch. He took the first bite of his salmon. Fuck, it was delicious. Immediately, he was transported into a world of epicurean bliss. Oh, man - he hadn't had a meal this good since he'd been admitted to the CEC. Sheridan closed his eyes briefly, shutting out everything but his sense of taste. After a moment, he opened his eyes to find Soyinka watching him with not a little amusement.

"I suppose I don't need to ask if you like it."  
Sheridan grinned shyly and reached for a drink of wine.  
"Sorry, it's just...really good."  
Soyinka tilted his head and smiled broadly at Sheridan.  
"Don't be sorry. I'm delighted that you are enjoying yourself."  
Sheridan blushed and went back to his food.

Harley cleared his throat.  
"So we owe the quality of the wine tonight to a bit of a celebration."  
Soyinka looked up.  
"Oh?"  
Harley beamed at the table.  
"I got the nomination for Legal Director."  
James jerked his head up.  
"You serious?!"  
"Yes! I got the letter this morning."  
"Oh, that's fantastic, Harl."  
James leaned forward and kissed his fiancé. Sheridan's distaste for the idea of giving Harley any more power flickered across his face just long enough for James to catch it, and kick him under the table. Soyinka smiled broadly and stood to shake his friend's hand.  
"Oi! Congratulations, man. Really, you deserve it."  
Harley grinned at James and put one hand on his fiancée's stomach.  
"And it's just in time, right?"  
James grinned moonily back him, and Sheridan rolled his eyes and tucked into his meal.

~:~

Sean arrived at Woodacre late that night. Released from duty for the weekend, he was eager to get back to their home and see his soon-to-be bride. He hesitated in the center court, unsure whether to go first to his own home or Adrian's. In the end, he decided that protocol was best followed, and went to inform his own parents of his arrival. His brothers were already asleep when he arrived, and he had the splendid misfortune of hearing his parents distinctly _not_ sleeping as he came up the stairs. He dropped his duffel bag loudly on the floor, and after what sounded like a scuffle and some swearing, his father appeared in a pair of loose pants in the hallway. He scowled at his oldest son.

"Dang it, Sean, don't you have a wife of your own to go disturb in the middle of the night?"  
Sean grinned.  
"I'm home for the weekend. Wanted to check in here first."  
Commander Ian Wick regarded his son for a moment.  
"Hm. Well, your room's open for you. Go see Adrian. Kiss him, kiss his mother, apologize again to his father. I expect you home in an hour."  
Sean raised an eyebrow.  
"Why don't I stay with Adie? It's not as if I could get him any _more_ pregnant than he already is."  
Ian Wick narrowed his eyes.  
"You talking smart to me, Sean?"  
Sean shook his head and backed down.  
"No, sir."  
Clearly, his dad could be pretty irritable when he'd been disturbed from his marital bed. Ian Wick grunted, turned, and disappeared back into his room, locking the door behind himself. Sean dropped his bag off in his room, then went to go find Adrian.

~:~

As the evening wore on, the dining room slowly began to empty of the few other patrons it had. Sheridan checked his watch - it was late already, almost eleven. He wondered what the conversation was on about now; he'd mostly tuned out, but picked up a few interesting words here and there, and decided to listen. He turned his attention to the conversation; Harley was speaking.

"Absolutely not. No way. It's too dangerous - not my kid, no."  
"You'd deny your son the opportunity for an education?" Soyinka's voice wasn't condemning; merely curious.  
"I want to protect my children at any cost. The world is still a dangerous place for a carrier, educated or not, to be going off in alone. And I know they say the universities they have for them are safe, but look at the Caterina - there were seventeen rapes there last summer. No. Sorry. My carrier son stays at home."  
"And if he refuses?" Soyinka pressed. James looked at Harley curiously.  
Harley shrugged.  
"Then I'll have him married off within the month and he can let his husband decide."  
Soyinka accepted this, and sat back in his seat. Sheridan didn't.

"That's sick and unfair." James shot a wide-eyed look of warning at his friend. Sheridan ignored it. "You're his father; you should care about him, body and mind. He's not just a thing to be safeguarded; you should do your best to make him a good person, to help him grow."  
Soyinka reached out and put a quelling hand on Sheridan's wrist. Sheridan shook him off.  
"You can't just lock him up in a tower, keep him away from the world. Nobody can live like that. Nobody can _grow_. And besides, you can't protect him from all the dangers of the world. That's just impossible. You have to accept at some point that he's his own person, he's _him_ , and he's not yours to own!"

Harley's expression had turned cold.  
"And should I send him off to wander the streets alone, then, in order to learn about the world? Should I send him to war? Should I knowingly and intentionally put my son in harm's way so that he can gain..." Harley's face contorted as he pronounced the disgusting word, "Experiences?"  
Sheridan shook his head.  
"That's fallacious and you know it. Going to university is not the same as getting dropped off in a war zone."  
Harley made an expression of disbelief.  
"So exactly what threshold of danger are you willing to tolerate for your own child, Sheridan? How far are you willing to let him go for the sake of sating some childhood curiosity?"

Sheridan glanced around the table. Soyinka was listening to him curiously. James was trying to disappear. Harley looked mad, but Sher had seen him madder and knew this was just the beginning of irritation; for now, Harley still felt sure he was in control.

"I - I don't know. But I know that I loved university, and I want my sons - all my sons - to have that same opportunity."  
Harley calmly finished his wine.  
"You, luckily, did not grow up in the world our children have been condemned to. We cannot live the way we used to. We must make adjustments accordingly. We must form new standards."  
As he spoke, he looked over at James, who was focused intently on his lap and still hadn't eaten. Harley frowned in worry.  
"Babe. You sure you're OK?"  
James nodded.  
"I just - maybe, um, I'm a little tired?"  
Harley nodded sympathetically.  
"OK. Let's get you out of here and up to your room."

James began to get to his feet, and Soyinka followed suit. Sheridan got up, too.  
"Oh. You guys are staying here tonight? I didn't realize. Well, thanks for dinner. I can just get the chaperone to call a car and take me back, and I'll see you tomorrow, James?" he looked for accordance from James, who was busy gathering his things and would not meet his eyes, then at Harley, who was smiling vaguely at him, then at Soyinka, who also would not meet his eyes.  
Nobody answered him. Sheridan knew immediately.  
"Oh, shit." he glanced back at the corner where the chaperones had posted when they'd come in to eat. The chaperones were gone. "Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Oh, shit."

Soyinka was standing in front of him now, holding his hands up as if to ward off accusations. Harley and James stood calmly on the other side of the table. Beyond the crack in the doors, in the hallway, the chaperones appeared, blocking off an exit. Wild thoughts raced through Sheridan's mind. Why weren't they acting? Why weren't they **helping** him?

"Sheridan. It's OK. Nobody's here to hurt you." Harley's voice was soothing.  
Sheridan shook his head and backed away from them. There was nobody else in the dining room.  
"No. No..."  
"Sheridan." Soyinka was standing by the table now, his hands at his sides and his expression sad. "Please don't be afraid of me, darling. I don't want to hurt you."  
Sheridan shook his head more furiously and couldn't look at Soyinka, couldn't look at the man who was going to...  
James stepped forward.  
"Sheridan. Babe. It's OK. Let's just go upstairs. You don't have to make a scene."  
"Nobody _wants_ to hurt you, Sheridan." Harley assured him.  
"Come on, Sher." James tried to soothe again. "Let's just go upstairs."  
"No, I - I - James! I - " Sheridan couldn't seem to get his mind to focus, to alight on any single thing. All he could think was that James loved him, so how could he do this? And how trapped he was, and why weren't the chaperones helping, and how Soyinka was just so damn big, and how maybe this was for the best anyway, and he should just give up now, and then his last, ironic thought was that the salmon hadn't been that damn good, anyway.

Soyinka was still carefully watching him; no one in the room had moved yet. They seemed interested in what he would do - what path he would choose of his own volition. Sheridan fidgeted with his shirt and tried to think of a plan. He latched onto his only possible one.

"Why - what about the chaperones? They'll report you."  
James tilted his head and shook it slowly.  
"No, Sher. They're not guards; they're chaperones."  
Sheridan blinked at James uncomprehendingly.  
"They're not here to protect you. They're here to make sure everything goes well tonight." James swallowed and lifted his chin. "I proposed this to the CEC a month ago."

Sheridan had never thought betrayal could cut so deeply. James still kept his chin up, but he looked upset, almost tearful.  
"I just wanted to help you, Sheridan. I didn't - I didn't want to see you get hurt."  
Harley nodded.  
"See, Sheridan? James loves you. He wants to help you. I want to help you. Soyinka, too. There are three people here who love you and want you to be happy. You're in a safe place. You're not going to get hurt. So why don't you come over here and let Soyinka take you upstairs to your room?"

Sheridan swallowed. He looked first to James, then to Soyinka, then finally, to Harley. Every one of them waited. Sheridan squeezed his hands into fists, then released them and smoothed his natori out on the sides. Then he stepped forward and reached out for James' hand.

~:~

Henrik's house was absolutely spectacular. Phidias tried not to be gauche, but he couldn't help but gawk at the rooms as he passed. Besides the size of the place - it felt as big as half the CEC - there were the artifacts. Vases, paintings, wall hangings, rugs, musical instruments and ceremonial masks all decorated every room of Henrik's house. Led by the hand, Phidias followed the man through the winding halls of his house and through a set of double doors into what Phidias could only guess Henrik had been describing as his "small library." The place was huge. Phidias wanted to cry. Henrik led him to a cluster of plush red chairs that were scattered around a coffee table on one side of the room. They sat.

"Now," Henrik said, stretching and then settling into a comfortable position in the chairs, "We get down to business."

From the drawer of the coffee table, he withdrew a few blank sheets of paper and a pen. He began scribbling furiously on the paper. After several long minutes, during which Phidias occupied himself with gawking at the quality and number of the books around him, Henrik stopped writing and folded the paper up.

"Phidias, I like you. I really like you. I think you are clever; I think you are handsome. I want to spend more time with you. I want to talk to you. I want to make love to you." Phidias felt a little self-conscious at the explicit praise; his heartbeat picked up. Henrik looked evenly into his eyes. "But those are the elements of a romance. A marriage is not a romance, and its happiness does not depend on those things."  
Phidias regarded his date with straightforward interest now. It was rare to hear such frank openness from anyone.  
"Phidias, I am a businessman, and a scientist. For marriage, I will make use of skills I've gained from both." he pushed the piece of paper forward.  
"These are the things I expect from a marriage. Beneath those are the things I will not allow. After that, a list of other things I am prepared to offer you."  
Phidias' eyes shot down to the folded paper in front of him.  
"Read the list. Consider it. I don't want an answer tonight; not even in this week." Phidias picked up the paper and turned it over in his hands. Henrik sat back in his chair. "I will see you next Saturday; if you are prepared then, we can discuss this."  
Phidias jerked his eyes up to Henrik's.  
"Next Saturday?" he'd tried to keep his voice simply inquisitive, but he must have been more obvious than he'd thought, because Henrik threw his head back and laughed, folding his fingers together.  
"Ah, you must see me sooner? Perhaps I can find time for lunch on Wednesday as well."  
Phidias shrugged nonchalantly, feeling a little humiliated by Henrik's laughter.  
"No, next Saturday is fine."  
Henrik looked a little sorry himself; clearly he'd set off Phidias' indignation. He should have known. Ah, well, he comforted himself, next time.  
Phidias glanced at the clock suddenly; it was after midnight. He wondered if Caddy was home.  
"I have to, um - "  
"Cadmus. Of course. He should be home in bed by now, but you never know with kids. Always have to check. I'll have my driver take you and your chaperone back. You'll be home soon."  
Henrik got to his feet and Phidias followed him, squeezing the piece of paper tight in his hand.

At the door of his home, Henrik kissed Phidias once on the cheek to send him off.  
"Until Wednesday." he promised, then smiled that disarmingly handsome smile at Phidias. As Phidias got into the car, he had a strange feeling that, for the first time, everything was really going to be OK.

~:~

Sheridan sat, unblinking, staring at his reflection in the mirror of the rented room's vanity. James sat on the bench behind him, brushing his hair.  
"See? You're going to look so pretty, Sher."  
Sheridan looked at himself in the mirror. His eyes were red from where he'd been crying; his hair had been mussed and his lip was split from where he'd struggled against Harley, who had caught him as he'd tried to bolt back down the steps.

Afterwards, he and James had been locked into the rented room, James having been given the assignment of making Sheridan presentable. Soyinka and Harley had disappeared.

James set down the brush and turned his attention to the wide, four poster bed. Restraints dangled from each corner, and James quietly loosened, then removed them, tucking them away in the bedside drawers. Sheridan watched him in the mirror and wondered just what the hell kind of bed and breakfast this was. James then undid the tucked covers, folding the blanket down just enough to look inviting, and then spritzing the linens with some kind of spray.

"Mint." he said sheepishly, in response to Sheridan's incredulous look. "It smells nice, you know."

James came back over to the vanity, and dragged Sheridan's stool around so that his friend faced him. Sheridan had been stripped when they'd first entered the room; now, he was wearing just his natori, with nothing underneath.  
"Now, listen - Soyinka's going to be really careful with you, but it still might hurt some. You know that, right?"

Sheridan blinked at him and didn't speak. James opened a jar of lotion and began rubbing it into Sheridan's skin, starting with his arm. Sheridan submitted limply, like a doll. James kept talking.

"But Soyinka really cares about you, and he's going to try to make it good."  
Sheridan shivered a little, and stared blankly at his friend.  
"How much?"  
James blinked. It was the first time Sheridan had spoken to him since they'd been in the room.  
"How much what?"  
Sheridan looked up at him.  
"How much will it hurt?"  
James gave him a reassuring smile.  
"No worse than ripping a bandage off. You'll be fine."

Sheridan retreated into silence again. James went on with the lotion, rubbing it first into one arm, then the other, then doing Sheridan's back and chest, then legs. He stopped short of lifting his friend's natori, then suddenly seemed to get an idea. He reached over into the bag he'd dropped by the vanity.

"Here. I have some lube. When you get started, use a little bit of this. It'll make it easier, especially if you can't get into it right now."  
Sheridan stared at the jar for a minute, then took it from James. Without looking at him, he said,  
"Thank you."  
James smiled in satisfaction, then hugged Sheridan.  
"Anytime."  
James got up to leave, but Sheridan stopped him with a hand on his arm.  
"I knew." he said, suddenly. "I knew."  
James frowned.  
"You knew?"  
"I knew. The minute you got pregnant...I knew you would do this to me."  
James gave Sheridan a sympathetic look.  
"Hush now. It's OK, Sher. Things will be alright in the morning. You'll be happy. You'll see."

~

It didn't feel like a bandage coming off. It felt like a knife going in, and Sheridan had to bite his lip hard to keep from crying out. Aaron was big in every way, and even with the added lubrication, and the prior stimulation of Aaron's fingers, it still felt extremely tight. Aaron was on top of him, his weight lifted off of Sheridan just slightly.

"Hush, darling. I know. Are you alright?"  
Sheridan blinked tears out of his eyes and wanted to say that no, he was not alright - nothing was alright or would ever be alright again. Soyinka kissed the side of his head.  
"I'm sorry, Sheridan. I'm so sorry. But you'll be alright."  
Sheridan just whimpered.  
"Can I move now? Are you OK for that?"  
Sheridan hesitated, but decided it was best gotten over with, and so nodded to urge him on. Aaron shifted so that his cock thrust deeper inside of Sheridan, and the carrier squeezed his mate's shoulder and cried out.  
"Oh, please!"  
Aaron dropped his head down to rest in the crook of Sheridan's neck.  
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, love, but we really have to do this."  
Sheridan's eyes were brimming with tears now, but he nodded.  
"I know. I know. Just fuck me. Can you just fuck me and be done with it?"  
Soyinka agreed.  
"OK. OK. I can." he kissed the side of Sheridan's head again, then closed his eyes and began to thrust, finding his rhythm quickly. He limited himself, held back and didn't give Sheridan his full depth; perhaps that would be for another time, when his prize wasn't frightened and angry and still in pain from the breaching.

After a few minutes of shallow thrusts, Soyinka started to speed up, and Sheridan welcomed the indication that the man was almost done. Within a half a minute, Aaron's back was tensing up, and Sheridan felt his hips jerk painfully inside of him. The big man groaned out his orgasm, spurting his warmth into Sheridan's sore passageway, but providing enough additional slickness to finally make the penetration bearable. Slowly, Aaron pulled out, his cock extracting with a wet sound and a hiss of sensitivity from both of them. Sheridan pulled away immediately, scooting to the farthest side of the bed. Aaron shook the stars out of his eyes, sat up, and reached out to put a hand on Sheridan's hip. The younger man was shaking. Disheartened, Aaron got up and went to the door, then knocked three times. After a minute, the door cracked open. A figure entered, and approached the bed, with Soyinka close behind him.  
Sheridan jerked backwards in fear as the shadow came close to him.

"It's OK, darling. This is just the doctor. He...he needs to confirm. Can you let him look at you?"  
Sheridan felt the fear be replaced by the sting of humiliation. But there was nothing for it now; what was done was done. He laid back on the bed.


	15. March 30

Caddy pored over the sheet, holding it gently in his hands, careful not to wrinkle it.  
"So are you going to accept?"  
Phidias looked over and saw what his son was holding, then grunted in exasperation.  
"Caddy, I asked you not to - "  
" _Regular sex_?" Cadmus read aloud. He looked up at Phidias. "I thought that was a given."  
Phidias frowned and leaned over to try to snatch the paper away with his left hand. Cadmus held it just out of reach.  
"Wait, stop! I have a right to know. I have a say in this, too. And I've already seen it anyway."  
Phidias sighed and relented. Caddy grinned and kept reading, squinting occasionally at Henrik's writing.  
"Wait, I can't - what does this one say?"  
Phidias leaned over to read it and his eyed widened. He'd forgotten about that one.  
"Give me that."  
Phidias stuffed the note into his pocket and went back to sitting at his dressing table. Caddy laid back on the bed.  
"Well, it looks like a good list. Even though I didn't get to read the whole thing."  
Phidias glanced over at his son.  
"So you think I should accept it?"  
Cadmus shrugged.  
"Well, what do I know? I'm just a kid." he picked at threads on the duvet for a quiet minute. "But Henrik does seem nice."  
Phidias nodded and turned back to the mirror, picking up the scissors again.  
"Well, you'll find out for sure at dinner tonight."  
Cadmus sat up on the bed and leaned forward to examine his toes.  
"Dad? Have you spoken to Dr. Long lately?"  
Phidias paused where he was, a fragment of hair stretched out between the scissors' blades.  
"No. I guess I should call him. I've just been - "  
"Busy. I know."

Phidias put the scissors down, emotions suddenly overwhelming him. It had been too long; Alan would be wondering how he was, where he was. He'd feel abandoned. They all would - his coworkers, his friends...he'd been so wrapped up here...it was just another thing he'd missed. Where were Sheridan and James? Phidias wanted them here, but it made him sick with worry to think about them. Gone for days and no word...

Caddy was looking at him intently in the mirror.  
"Dad?"  
Phidias shook himself from his miserable reverie.  
"Yeah, Caddy?"  
"It's going to be OK, you know."  
Phidias mustered a plausible smile for his son.  
"I know, Caddy. It's going to be fine."

~:~

Sheridan quickly set the table, looking back to check his work. It seemed satisfactory, so he ran upstairs to get dressed.

Aaron Soyinka arrived home for lunch at exactly 12, dropping a pile of papers and books down on the table in the entryway and calling out for Sheridan.  
Sheridan didn't answer; instead, he appeared in the doorway to the dining room, dressed in a natori and long sleeves that he kept pulling down to cover his hands. His hair had been curled by James' careful hand.  
"Hello."

Aaron checked his face for some sign of recognition; any indication of interaction. There as none. Aaron ruffled in his pockets as if suddenly remembering something there, then approached Sheridan, who considered moving away but didn't. When Soyinka was closer, he reached into the inside pocket of his coat and produced a small black box, tied with a pink bow; this was presented to Sheridan. Sher's eyes flicked down to it, then up to Aaron's face, which was hopeful. He took the box.

It was a necklace, a pretty gold thing. Sheridan picked it up.

"Do you want to put it on?" Soyinka asked, a touch too eagerly. Sheridan shrugged. Aaron stepped closer, took the necklace, and moved behind his carrier wife. Sheridan was proud of himself for not flinching as Aaron lifted the necklace around his head, holding Sher's hair gently to the side so that it could be fastened. Soyinka stepped back to admire his work and smiled. "It suits you."  
Sheridan looked self-consciously down at the floor.  
"It matches your ring."  
Sheridan looked down at his hand. He and Aaron Soyinka had been married 36 hours after the doctor had verified his status in the hotel room. There had been no contestants, no protests, no family members to cry foul. Just him and Aaron and James there with Harley. There had been no ceremony. Sheridan had informed his brothers by mail.

The next day, things had been too strange to have feelings. He just _went_ ; went to the doctor (again), then to the courthouse, then to Soyinka's house. Went to dinner and into the shower and to bed alone.

On the third day, everything hurt. It hurt to talk to Soyinka. It hurt to ignore Soyinka. It hurt to hate James. It hurt to love James. It hurt to think about James. And Harley was there the entire time, a presence - silent, mostly, which made it worse; he was a motile ghost, leaving fingerprints of control everywhere. He frightened Sheridan, but Harley and Soyinka shared a house, and so interaction was impossible to avoid. He'd learned to deal with that - with them, seeing daily the three people in the world he least wanted to connect with. But dealing with his mind was another matter, and the confusion was the worst part.

Sheridan felt fragmented, broken, split into pieces. Part of him still felt weak, aching, bereft...everything was different now, everything was changed, made unfamiliar...violated. It made him angry and tired, all at once. He envisioned himself a wraith - neither in this place or the next, but only floating, lost somewhere in between. That part frightened him.

The other part of him felt completely and utterly relieved. It was over; it was all over - the worry and the fear and the constant fucking effort of resistance. He could rest a while now. It was all said and done: his path was set. All that was required of Sheridan now was that he be good. And for a carrier, it was very easy to be good. There were no moral quandaries, no political situations, no pressure to lead or provide. In this life, there was only one path to goodness: obey.

Today, he had made crabcakes for lunch.

~:~

"Ohhhhh, Adrian." Ren moaned from the left side of the kitchen, grabbing the sink and doubling over to try to get a handle on his stomach. "Ohhh, Adrian. Ohhhh, I hate your father."  
Adrian cooed and rubbed his back sympathetically. General William Mackenzie looked up from his boiled egg salad and shook his head.  
"Nope. Not my fault. Not this one. This one was you."  
Ren glared daggers at his husband from across the room.  
"I'm not the one who didn't pull out, Will." he hissed.  
Will Mackenzie shrugged helplessly.  
"You could have reminded me."  
"Well, you have to give me more warning than 'Oh, shit!'." Ren splashed some water from the sink on his face. "I hope you get sympathy pains."  
Will Mackenzie wisely and quietly went back to eating his eggs.

Adrian didn't feel that fantastic himself this morning, but he'd been cheered by the clean bill of health he'd gotten the day before and couldn't bring himself to be irritable. The day just seemed too beautiful.  
"Sean's coming for dinner tonight."  
Ren nodded and sipped some of the lemon-ginger tea that June made especially for these occasions.  
"Right. OK. Fine. I don't care. You're cooking."  
Adrian looked up in surprise, but a frantic hand motion from his father kept him from protesting.  
"OK." he said meekly.

The eldest Mackenzie relaxed, and then cleared his throat.  
"When Sean gets here, there's things to be discussed, Adrian. The council has denied the request for land for you and Sean to build your house."  
Adrian turned slowly to face his dad.  
"What? Why?"  
General William Mackenzie looked evenly at his oldest carrier son.  
"You know why."  
Adrian looked helplessly at his father.  
"The proof. They want the proof."  
Will Mackenzie nodded. Adrian bit his lip and then spoke.  
"Sean and I don't think we need to do that to - "  
"It's not you and Sean's decision."  
Adrian looked up at his dad.  
"Why not?"  
Will Mackenzie folded his hands in front of him and stared hard at his son.  
"If you wish to be a part of this community, Adrian, then you must behave as if you wish to be a part of this community."

Adrian looked to his stepmother, who was watching the back-and-forth silently from his place by the sink.  
"Ren? Tell him we don't need to do it. It's just custom; it's not a law."  
Ren straightened up and quietly answered,  
"I had to do it, Adrian. We all did."  
Adrian met his eyes, then looked to his right, out the window.  
"So this is what the new face of the Revival looks like, eh, Dad?"  
William Mackenzie continued to stare at his son.  
"You have a choice, Adrian. You always have a choice. You can either abide by the rules of Dothan, or you can go back to the outside world."  
"Will." Ren was looking at his husband now, his voice soothing but face stern. "That's not necessary."  
Will Mackenzie met his wife's eyes, then backed down.  
"Adrian, I understand your reticence. And your shame. But it is a custom which is as expected as law, and if you want to be full members of Dothan, to be _respected_ in this community, then I would advise you and Sean to participate in it." Will paused. "It would be a first step towards reinstating yourself, and your family, in this community, Adie."

That one stung. Even though he'd been welcomed at Woodacre, even though it was like being back home and it seemed as if he'd never left, Adrian knew. Knew that people talked, complained, whispered when he wasn't around. That single name, that little phrase, that one tiny moniker, so transformative, so indelible.

Whore.

Adrian suddenly felt like crying. He touched his hand to his face and realized, to his horror, that he already was.  
"It's not even all my fault! _Sean's_ the one who pushed me out! He's the one who said those things - he _made_ me leave! You _know_ he made me leave! And he did it on purpose so he could come after me, and be the hero, like he always is. And he put ideas in my head, and he - he said we didn't _need_ anyone's stupid ceremony. _He_ told me it would be fine, and everyone in Dothan did it, and it wouldn't matter once we were married! _He's_ the one who said we - "

Adrian stopped there, because breathing and talking had become incompatible activities. Ren, recognizing that his stepson's upset was fast becoming hysteria, got out of his seat and went over to comfort Adrian.  
"Hush. I know. I know, Adie. I know."  
"It's not my fault!"  
Will Mackenzie furrowed his brow. Ren rubbed Adrian's back to soothe him.  
"Listen, I know. But let's get this ship back on course. You need to go and speak with the council. They're angry with you. They know your situation. You know the laws. You know you broke them when - "  
" **I** didn't break them! Sean did! He...he made me do it." Adrian finished weakly, and looked up to find his father frowning sternly at him. Ren tucked some of Adrian's dark hair behind his ear.  
"Yes, but, Adie, the laws were still broken, and the Council thinks - "  
"We're not _fools_ , Adrian." William Mackenzie cut in with a scowl, talking over Ren's placations. "We know you. Know you damn well. Sean may have 'made you' do it the last time, but he damn sure didn't make you do it the first."

Adrian was silent, eyes wide - he looked injured by his father's snappish rebuke. Ren sighed and squeezed Adrian's shoulder, kneading his own belly with his other hand.  
"Listen, just...talk to Sean tonight. We'll set up the ceremony. Your dad can arrange for the surgery. We'll all talk about the wedding. Then we'll talk to the council about getting you a house."

~:~

Lunch with Henrik on Wednesday had turned into lunch with Henrik and Cadmus on Wednesday, which had turned into dinner with Henrik and Caddy and Anders on Wednesday. This was the series of events which had led Phidias to be standing outside his own bathroom with a toothbrush in his hand, waiting impatiently for Cadmus to finish doing his hair. Phidias knocked on the door.  
"Caddy? You alright in there? You fall in?"  
"Fine! I'll be out in five!"  
Phidias sighed and went into the other room to get dressed. He opened his closet. Not much there. He felt like he'd worn every natori before. He decided to check Caddy's closet.

Phidias went into his son's small bedroom and opened the closet doors. He pawed through the first rack of natoris - when had Cadmus collected so many? - and moved on to the drawers on the left side of the closet. When he leaned down to pull the handle of the first drawer, though, he noticed a small box he hadn't seen before wedged between the chest of drawers and the closet's back wall. Curious, he leaned down for a better look.  
"Dad." Phidias jerked back up, narrowly missing hitting his head on a row of hangers. Cadmus was standing in his room, looking a little pale. "Dad, what are you doing?"  
Phidias flustered a little.  
"Nothing, I was just looking for a natori." he looked away from Cadmus' critical stare, then suddenly remembered who was the father and who was the son and looked back up. "Why? Why should I not go into your closet?"  
Cadmus looked angry for a split second, but Phidias blinked and his son was just grinning, putting his hands on his hips in a faux-annoyed fashion.  
"Well, you can, but you might not ever come back out. I need to clean up in there, so move before you straighten things up and I can't find anything."  
Caddy came forward and pushed past him to finger through the natoris himself. He retrieved a dark green, patterned one.  
"How about this?"  
Phidias nodded dumbly, still preoccupied by the box and Cadmus' face.  
"Yeah...yeah, that should be fine. Thanks, buddy."  
Grasping the natori tightly in his hand, wrinkling its folds, Phidias turned and, with one last glance over his shoulder, quickly left.

~:~

Two hours later, Phidias and Cadmus pulled up outside of Henrik Angstrom's house. Phidias glanced at his watch. Excellent. They were only twenty-three minutes late. They were making a brilliant impression already. He hustled Cadmus out of the car, waited for the chaperone to emerge as well, and then hustled all three of them up to the front door. Cadmus looked around in awe at the size of the place.

"Dad, I like Henrik." he said quickly. Phidias rolled his eyes.  
"You could try at least meeting the man first." he muttered. He rang the bell once, and presently a well-manicured gentleman of about 70 opened the door. He seemed to brighten upon seeing them.  
"Ah, the Alexanders, you must be. Come in, come in!" he stepped back to usher them in, pointedly closing the door in the chaperone's face. Cadmus grinned as he caught sight of the interior of the house.  
"Dad, I _really_ like Henrik."

Phidias ignored his son and hurriedly opened the door to let the chaperone in before the thing could file some kind of report on that or something. When he turned back towards the entryway, the elder man was already taking Cadmus' jacket, and Henrik was striding down the hallway towards them.  
"Welcome." he came forward and briskly kissed Phidias' cheek, not leaving him time to be embarrassed before turning to Cadmus. "You must be Cadmus."  
Caddy, who was busy gawking at the art and decor, snapped back to look at Henrik, and smiled.  
"Hi! You're Henrik. You can call me Caddy."  
Henrik tilted his head in acknowledgment of this, while the elder man took Phidias' jacket. Henrik lifted his eyes to him.

"And this is Mr. Paul. He is an old family friend, who helps us with doorbells and coat racks and the like, in exchange for a small fee extracted primarily through the cost of doughnuts and long-distance phone calls."  
Mr. Paul laughed at Henrik's wry wit.  
"I am something of a butler to Mr. Angstrom's house."  
Henrik's eyes glittered amusement.  
"A butler who takes no direction, works no set hours, and frequently uses my shower."  
Mr. Paul inclined his head in an amusing impression of Henrik's gesture.  
"All these are true. However, one good trait: I am also a butler who knows when to take his leave. I'll let you three get on to dinner. As for myself - I have many very important and busy things to do for the duration of the evening."  
Cadmus grinned at this. Mr. Paul turned to him first.  
"Good night, Cadmus. It was a pleasure meeting you." he extended his hand, which Caddy politely shook.  
"You can call me Caddy, too."  
"Caddy Too, it is." Mr. Paul turned to Phidias. "And goodnight to you as well, Dr. - "  
Phidias cut in, stung by the reminder and suddenly bitter.  
"Actually, it's Mister."  
There was a pause, then, just as if Phidias had never spoken, Mr. Paul smiled and bowed slightly.  
"Dr. Alexander. Goodnight. You can find your coats just to your left when dinner is done."  
And with that, he disappeared off into a door down the hall.  
Henrik clapped his hands together and turned to Phidias.  
"Well? Shall we eat?"

Henrik led them down the wide hallway and towards the rear of the house, where the family's living quarters were organized. As they entered the dining room, scraping sounds, swearing, and the banging of pots could be heard from a direction which Phidias deduced must be that of the kitchen. Henrik frowned and looked towards the swinging glass door which appeared to lead there.  
"Please, sit. It sounds as if Anders is having trouble, and I believe I should check on him. He is, after all, my only progeny, and it would be a shame to have to rewrite my will after he'd set himself on fire making dinner."  
Henrik pulled out two chairs from one side of the table and guided Phidias and Cadmus into each of them, then disappeared into the kitchen.  
When they were alone, Caddy leaned over to whisper to his father.  
"Dad. I really, **really** like Henrik."

Presently, the frosted glass door of the kitchen swung open, and Henrik and a young man emerged, each bearing large, domed dishes of food, which they arranged on the table between two other covered plates. The most striking thing about the young man was how curiously little he resembled Henrik. Where Henrik was fair, the young man was lightly brown-skinned; where Henrik had dark eyes, the young man had bright green ones that brought an otherworldly kind of light to his youthful face. Where Henrik's natural expression was stern and serious, the young man's face looked as if it had been built for laughter. The only similarity between them was in build - they shared the same broad shoulders and strong jaw, the same weight of body and masculine presence, the same confident gait. Phidias found considerable interest in glancing between them, making these little notes in his mind.

The second most striking thing about the young man was that he was wearing a bright green apron and white striped oven mitts; he removed these as he smiled at Phidias.  
"You must be Dr. Alexander." he extended his hand. "I'm Anders. It's a pleasure to meet you. My father has told me such interesting things."  
Phidias's heart sped up. Interesting? Henrik had been talking about him and the best way his son could describe those stories was as 'interesting'? Immediately, Phidias began to worry. Anders had already moved on, and was now smiling at Cadmus.  
"And you must be Caddy. I'm Anders. I'm Henrik's son."  
"I know." Caddy almost whispered, which made Phidias jerk his head around to see what new devilry had caused his son to suddenly become understated and quiet. From the corner of his eye, he noticed that Henrik was also watching Cadmus, a curious cast to his face. Caddy cleared his throat.  
"Um, I'm Cadmus. I'm Phidias' son."  
Anders looked amused.  
"I know. Nice to meet you, Cadmus." he extended a hand over the table to shake Caddy's hand.  
Caddy took it, then blurted out,  
"I'm almost fifteen!"  
Phidias blinked at his son. Anders politely nodded.  
"Well, congratulations. When's your birthday?"  
Caddy turned red and shrunk back into his chair a little, as if he hadn't anticipated this question.  
"Not - um, not until December."  
Anders nodded seriously.  
"Well, that's perfect, then. Gives us time to plan a party."  
Cadmus looked thrilled, then turned red immediately and looked away. Phidias glanced out of the corner of his eye at Cadmus. Leave it to Caddy to act normal all day, then wait until dinner to start getting weird. Phidias sighed. He would never understand that kid.

"Well, we have here a spring vegetable medley," Henrik introduced, uncovering the first dish, "As well as some bread, baked in-house by the esteemed Mr. Paul." Henrik then indicated the third dish on the table, which Anders was standing proudly by.  
"And our main course - a broiled venison, hunted and prepared by our most honorable chef tonight, Mr. Anders Angstrom."  
Anders grinned, basking a little in his father's attention. Caddy looked up at Anders.  
"Hunted? You hunt?"  
Anders nodded and Henrik explained.  
"I possess nearly 60 acres of property not far from here. I insisted Anders learn to hunt as a child, and he rather unexpectedly has taken a liking to it."  
Anders began to slice the deer with a mean-looking knife.  
"Yes, I have. Perhaps I can take you with me sometime, Caddy."  
Phidias scoffed at the idea in his own mind, but kept quiet. As if Cadmus would want to go on something as -  
"OK!! I'd love to go."  
Seriously, this kid was always surprising him. Phidias shook his head and turned his attention to Henrik, suddenly remembering that this was still, technically, a date.  
"So I saw that you've signed us out until 2300 hrs. Did you have more than dinner planned?"  
Henrik inclined his head from the seat he had taken at the head of the table.  
"As a matter of fact, I did. I supposed that we could eat and afterwards, you and I could retire to the library for coffee. Later, I expect we might want to discuss more details - all four of us - here, in the dining room. But in the interim, Caddy can tag after Anders. He'll only be in these few rooms."  
Phidias glanced uneasily at Anders.  
"If you are worried, Phidias, your chaperone can follow with them."  
Phidias had the good graces to look embarrassed.  
"Sorry, I didn't - "  
Henrik held up one hand to stop him.  
"Please. You are a father. It's alright." he held out a hand to indicate the table. "Now. I am famished, and the meat looks delicious. Let's eat."

~

After dinner, Henrik led Phidias to the same library they'd been to before, picked a seat among cluster of chairs they'd sat in before, and set a thin brown folder down on the table between them. Phidias swallowed nervously.  
"I read your list."  
Henrik smiled.  
"I expected you to." the smile faded. "What did you think?"  
Phidias pulled the paper from his pocket and tried failingly to smooth it out on the table. It crumpled up a bit around the middle, but the words were still legible:

 _In this home, I am the head of household, and I take my role seriously. All in my household are under my dominion. I make decisions only in the interest of this household, and I will not tolerate insolence, dishonesty, or disobedience. Discipline will be administered as necessary. My expectations for our life together include, but are not limited to, the items listed below:_

 _I require your companionship in general activities; in entertaining of guests, participation in community events, matters of family, and in travel and certain business issues.  
I require regular sex - greater than 3 times weekly - in which I am the dominant partner. Sexually, I enjoy spontaneity and will welcome your advances; I am exploratory, although I prefer to avoid attachment to sexual items; and I disdain the participation of others in our sexual practices.  
I require you to remain in good health, maintaining yourself well through exercise and good eating. Smoking and narcotic substances are banned in this household.  
I require good carrier behavior from you in the areas of homekeeping & childcare.  
I require children of my issue (I require your fidelity and loyal support._

 _I prefer that you spend your time improving yourself with intellectual pursuits, but also socially and in matters popular to carriers.  
I prefer that you and I engage in the enjoyable exchange of our interests and hobbies.  
I prefer that you make every effort to be honest with me, as I will make every effort to be with you._

 _I will provide for you and your children a home and all necessary items for health and comfort, including but not limited to: food, clothing, items of hygiene, education, manners of communication, and access to friends and family.  
I will provide for you and your children my affection, loyalty, and protection.  
I will provide the financial means for you and your children, within reason, to provision yourself with items of leisure, including by not limited to: recreational activities, leisure travel, amusements such as collections of art or clothing, special events, and hobby practices.  
I will provide my support for you and your children in endeavours of personal improvement and professional growth, should such goals become a priority for our household.  
I will provide for you and your children a full welcome into my home; your children are my children and your family my family. Cadmus, Anders, and any other children will all receive shares of inheritance appropriate for their station, and equal entitlement to my care. Carrier children will be provided with the means for an education suited to their needs; the means for attendance at a university suited to their needs; and all arrangements necessary to ensure they are placed afterwards into a safe and beneficial marriage._

 __

Henrik drank his coffee and inclined his head.  
"It is a good summary."  
Phidias nodded absently.  
"Yes. But what did you - discipline? What does that mean?"  
"It means, Phidias," he said, looking the carrier directly in the eyes, "That I believe it is within my authority to punish you, to punish Anders, or to punish Cadmus."  
Phidias frowned.  
"Right. But punish like how?"  
Henrik shrugged.  
"That depends on what the nature of the offense."  
Phidias looked worriedly at the paper, almost afraid to ask.  
"Like doing chores?"  
"Yes."  
"Or like writing lines?"  
"That, too."  
"Or did you mean physically?"  
Henrik stared unblinking at Phidias.  
"Yes, that as well."

Phidias toyed anxiously with the end of his braid and bit his lip. Henrik stared at it for a minute, fanciful thoughts drifting through his head. He ignored them and went back to the paper.

"You must understand that I will never harm you, or Cadmus. Understand that if you were to join my family, I would treat you as the love of my life, and Cadmus as my own child. Even among the best, however, the need for discipline may sometimes arise. I will be careful and thoughtful always, and will never hurt you or him unduly. Is this something you could live with, Phidias?"  
Phidias stared at the paper. Then he looked up, at the books lining the walls. He looked back at the last promise on the paper. Then he looked up at Henrik.  
"I think it will be fine."

Henrik seemed to release some of his tension, and he leaned back in his chair. Phidias frowned at the paper one more time.  
"It talks about my infidelity - what about yours?"  
Henrik inclined his head.  
"My fidelity is also expected. It is an essential part of our marriage. You may add it if you like."  
Phidias did so.  
"And what happens if you stray?"  
Henrik looked away for a minute, thinking, then steepled his hands and turned back to Phidias.  
"Then I expect you will ask to divorce me, and I will grant it. You may keep this house, and half of my assets."  
Phidias raised one eyebrow.  
"And if I do it?"  
"Then I will divorce you, and take custody of Cadmus."  
Phidias stared at him.  
"I'm not going to wager my own son."  
Henrik drank from his coffee.  
"I don't believe you will." he said, slowly, and there was something in his tone that momentarily frightened Phidias. He swallowed and frayed the end of his braid. His expression softening, Henrik set his cup down reached across the table, taking Phidias' hand.  
"I only wished to set equal stakes, Phidias. And right now, Cadmus is the only asset you have."

~

"I thought that went well." Phidias remarked as they rode in the town car back to the Center, a copy of Henrik's list (with Phidias' edits) scrunched deeply down into his pocket. Caddy scoffed.  
"If it had _really_ gone well, we wouldn't be going home tonight."  
Phidias's eyes widened.  
"Caddy!"  
His son laughed and went back to staring out the window.  
"So I guess we have a family again, don't we?"  
Phidias frowned.  
"Caddy, we were always a family. Just me and you."  
Caddy nodded appeasingly.  
"I know. I know. But now our family is _real_."

In his pocket, Phidias fingered the paper that Henrik had given him, and wondered just how true that was.


	16. April 2

Phidias had spent the past two days in pre-wedding private counseling. On the first day, his counselor had mostly cooed over him, making the appropriate ooh's and aah's and asking about his ring and how they'd met, and what the courtship had been like. On the second day, he'd helped Phidias fill out the hundred and one forms he needed to file; marriage licenses, custody claims, suspension of coursework, and more. Today, he'd settled down to business.  
"So are you going to be prepared when your husband tries to fuck you?"

Phidias flushed immediately. Henrik had pressed nothing sexual on him - not yet, although he'd made it clear that would be expected. Phidias looked at his hands.  
"I'm sure I'll be fine." he mumbled. The Counselor shook his head.  
"No, you won't. You're going to go home tonight, and you're going to get a stomachache just thinking about it. Then tomorrow, you're going to think about it some more and your vision's going to get blurry. Then on the day of the wedding, you'll start having panic attacks, and you'll be vomiting in the bridal suite by ten a.m."  
Phidias blanched at the prediction, delivered so matter-of-factly that it made it seems as if Phidias' case were just one more out of thousands. The Counselor must have recognized that his words were harsh, because he leaned forward, balancing his notepad on one thigh, to touch Phidias' knee.  
"But listen, Phidias, that's what I'm here to prevent." he made an amused little movement with his mouth. "After all, we don't want a repeat of the first time you tried to do your exercises."  
The color returned to Phidias' face at the reminder of his...reactivity to touching himself. The Counselor was looking concerned now, trying to meet his eyes.  
"I want to help you, remember. But if you can't even come to terms with your sexuality, how do you expect to share it with someone else?"  
Phidias didn't like this conversation. He twisted his ring nervously and pulled his knee away from the Counselor's touch.  
"I am comfortable. I can touch myself now. I mean, I did the exercises and everything. It just took me some time. And I even looked in the mirror at my last exam."  
The Counselor folded his hands in his lap.  
"Have you brought yourself to orgasm?"  
Phidias dropped his eyes, embarrassed, and shook his head.  
"I mean, I have a kid."  
"Proof positive that you _can_ do it."  
Phidias glared at him.  
"I meant that Caddy's always in the house, and - "  
"Bullshit."  
Phidias looked up.  
"I'm sorry?"  
The Counselor looked unperturbed.  
"Bullshit. You've got plenty of time at home without Caddy there. He's at school, he's off with his friends, he's watching a movie. You're in the shower, you're in the bath, you're alone in your room at night."  
Phidias hesitated.  
"I can't."  
The Counselor grimaced sympathetically.  
"I know. But you have to."

Despair crept into Phidias' voice.  
"Why? Why do I have to? Why can't I just - "  
"Lie back and think of England?" the Counselor interrupted, a little snidely. "Because that puts yet another aspect of your relationship fully under Henrik's control. You've already agreed to let him initiate it, let him lead it; now only he gets to enjoy it, as well? This is your body, Phidias. You should love what you do with it. And, more importantly, you should learn what you need and what you like so that you can make _him_ work for _you_."  
Phidias twiddled his thumb.  
"What if he doesn't want to?"  
The Counselor raised an eyebrow.  
"If Henrik is as good a man as you say he is, then increasing the enjoyment that his partner takes from sex can only enhance the experience for him. Trust me, he'll want to see you cum."

Phidias bit his lip. He felt sick. This was a whole new set of expectations; taking Henrik's cock, letting a man fuck him - these were things he was prepared to deal with. Having to like it? That, he was not.

~:~

Caddy and Phidias spent Saturday night at Henrik's house. Henrik had a sizable television in the basement den, and so he and Phidias sat together on the sofa with Caddy on the floor in front of them and settled in to watch a government film about a runaway carrier. Sometime during the first few scenes, Phidias found himself being tugged over to lean against Henrik. He wanted to resist at first, protest that he needed his space - but this seemed like the wrong message to send so soon into their relationship.

Halfway through the film, he heard footsteps on the stairs, and shortly Anders wandered in, his skin glistening and hair stuck together in places with sweat, a duffel bag stuffed with clothes slung over one arm. He asked what they were watching.  
"Shh!" his father responded.  
Caddy looked up from the movie.  
"It's called Gamine. It's a government movie. This carrier runs away from his Centre and ends up falling in love with the special officer they send to retrieve him."   
Anders raised both eyebrows.  
"Ah." he proceeded on through the den to the short hallway which led to his room and closed the door.  
Caddy glanced up at Henrik.  
"That's Andy's room?"  
Henrik frowned, his attention still on the film. The special officer was performing a daring rooftop maneuver to fight off the approaching criminals.   
"Anders' room. Yes."  
"Does he live here all the time?"  
Henrik frowned again and Phidias leaned forward.  
"Caddy, hush. We're trying to watch the movie."  
Caddy quieted down, but kept glancing at the hallway into which Anders had disappeared. It really wasn't very far.

~:~

James was watching him again. It had been happening a lot lately, and Sheridan wasn't sure if it was because he presented such a ghastly sight, or if James was just checking over his handiwork. In the past week, James had primped, prodded, and in every way he could, altered Sheridan into a better carrier. He had alternately straightened and put curls into Sheridan's hair; he had dressed him in "better" (read: shorter) natoris, he had gone on, in nauseatingly explicit detail, about the multiple ways to please a man, and he had insisted Sheridan cook every meal - "because you need the practice."

So at the moment, Sheridan stood stirring a rich stew on the stove and reflecting on the week.

Two days ago, Soyinka had taken Sheridan and James over to the center to collect their things. Sheridan had felt such relief - such vast pleasure in seeing the brick rise up between the trees. The CEC had always been a cage to him, but now it felt free. There were people here, real people to see and converse with and sit with at lunchtime. Rich was here, and Phidias, and Sol, and about a hundred other people who were not James or Harley or Aaron Soyinka. Aaron had said they'd have the whole day - which meant that Sher could ditch James, pack really quickly, and then maybe see his friends, give his apologies to his professors, and there would still be time enough left to go for a walk in the gardens and catch a viewing of a decent movie. Sheridan had been bouncing in his seat just thinking about it, and Aaron had smiled at him and reached over to take his hand, and kiss it. This had slowed, but not stopped, Sheridan's excitement.

But inside, things were different. His room had been half-packed already. At least, all the heavy items were gone. Which had been insulting, but also a relief - it left him more time to do whatever he wanted. Sheridan had sought out Phidias first, but there was no answer at his door, his PGL was out of town, and no one was entirely sure where he'd gone. Finally, he'd managed to track down their mutual counselor friend, from whom he'd learned that Phidias had recently become engaged, and was most likely occupied with that business at the moment. Sher had abandoned his quest and sought out Rich instead. Rich was nowhere to be found. The grapevine informed him that Rich had been missing for three days. His room had been packed, and moved somewhere. He wasn't expected to return. Defeated, Sheridan went to lunch. There were only three people at the table. Afterwards, he'd simply gone back to his room and waited for Aaron to come pick him up.

 

James came up beside him, close. Too close. Sheridan moved away. Injury flashed across James' face, but he decorously hid it, and Sheridan politely pretended it hadn't been seen.  
"How's everything coming?"  
Sheridan shrugged. James exhaled in annoyance.  
"You talk. I know you can talk."  
Sheridan didn't answer this.  
"Come on, this is beyond childish now. Speak, like a normal human being."  
Sheridan ignored him.  
"Soyinka's getting tired of it."

Sheridan doubted that. His fiancé had been peculiarly uncritical of his silence during the week; he appeared to be interpreting it as some sort of religious exercise, in which he should not interfere. Rather than press him for conversation, Aaron had simply begun talking to Sheridan, sharing with his fiancée his day, his work, his dreams and his life. Just one week, and Sheridan already felt like he knew the man. James tugged at his elbow, causing Sher's sleeve to dip into the jollof sauce.  
" _I'm_ getting tired of it."  
Sheridan shot him a scathing look. James understandably shrunk back.  
"But you talked at the CEC."  
James sounded dangerously close to whining.

Whirling from the stove, a red-tipped wooden spoon still clutched in one hand, Sheridan sharply responded,  
"Yes, I talked. But not to you. I have nothing to say to you. You're dead to me."  
James' face fell.  
"Sher..."  
Sheridan ignored him, turning his full and deliberate attention back to the mixture on the stove.  
"Sher." James repeated. Sheridan ignored him.  
"SHER!"  
This time, Sheridan turned around, but still didn't speak. He regarded James with the stoniest eyes he could muster. James was red, his chest heaving.  
"Sheridan, please, listen to me. Just listen to me. Please."  
Sheridan waited. James licked his lips nervously.  
"Sher, I just wanted to help you - "  
"I didn't need your help."  
James ignored this and continued.  
"But you were close. Don't you get that? You were so close to your deadline. And then what? What will they do with a carrier who marries too late to breed? They'd have killed you, Sher. You'd be dead by now."  
Sheridan shook his head and turned to finish with the sauce, removing it gently from the stove.  
"I would have been fine."  
"No, you wouldn't have! _Fuck_ , Sher, this isn't a joke!"  
Sheridan exhaled in irritation and turned to face his friend.  
"James, I had my life in check. I had things under control until you came along and you sold me out! You gave me away to some...some stranger, just so I could sit here, in this little fucking house with you and play sisters all day. You betrayed me, and you called it caring. Help. Well, _fuck_ your care, James. I don't need it."  
James looked miserably up at Sheridan.  
"They would have taken you from me, Sher."  
Sheridan sighed and dropped his head.  
"Here's the thing. I can't do what you're doing, James. I can't make this work. I can't be that kind of man. I can't do it. I can try, and I can pretend, and I can fake happiness for Aaron, but trust me - that act has got an expiration date. It's going to fall apart, sometime."  
James sniffed and reached out a yearning hand to his friend.  
"I'm sorry, Sher. But I couldn't let them do it. I - I couldn't let them destroy you."  
Sheridan gritted his teeth, working his jaw to keep from slapping James. His friend watched him for a moment, breath quickening. When he spoke, his words were whispered, almost reverent.  
"I couldn't let them ruin something so incredibly beautiful."

Sheridan met his eyes, a look of confusion first, but then James leaned forward, impulsively, to capture Sheridan's mouth in a kiss, and he understood. Sheridan allowed it for a minute, then pushed James gently away.  
"OK. OK. Enough of that. I'm married. You're married. We're friends."  
James looked dazed, a little abashed. His eyes flickered between the floor and the pot by the stove. He couldn't look at Sheridan.  
"I'm sorry. Sorry. I didn't mean - "  
"I know." Sheridan said kindly. "It's OK." he touched the back of one hand to his mouth, self-consciously. "It's OK." James watched for a minute, then turned his gaze away. "I'm still angry with you, James."  
James didn't speak; he was now looking at his hands. Sheridan folded his arms across his chest and leaned his head back, closing his eyes.  
"I understand that you wanted something different for me. But I have wants, too." he opened his eyes, met James' meaningfully. "And in the future, James, please respect that."  
James' breath caught in his throat, but he managed to nod. Then, abruptly, he shook his head instead.  
"I - I can't promise you I'll let you go, Sher."  
Sheridan gave James a rueful grin.  
"I know." he said, reaching forward to put one tentative hand on his friend's shoulder. "I know you can't."

~:~

He was supposed to bleed out over the sheets. That was the point, really, of all this. Adrian stared at the speckled gray of Dr. Edmund J. Alm's ceiling as the main doctor of Woodacre pulled his fingers out of him.  
"Well, everything looks to be in order. When would you like the wedding to take place, Adrian?"  
Adrian hesitated, glancing at Ren.  
"Two weeks." Ren answered for him. "Can we make that happen?"  
The doctor turned his attention back to Adrian.  
"It'll be a short procedure, Adrian, and I'd like you to stay overnight with me, here, OK? When can you do that?"

Adrian hesitated again. He felt pretty vulnerable, laid out on the table like this, his legs spread. He felt exposed. Nervously, he pulled the blanket back down, from where it had been hiked up around his waist.

"Um, I - I don't know. I have to get back to the Centre - "  
"Next weekend." Adrian interrupted. "That will give time for healing, won't it? How long will he need before the wedding?"  
The doctor looked over at Adrian.  
"About a week. Little less. I want to ensure everything heals well enough so that the new hymen will be vascular."  
Adrian propped himself up on his elbows.  
"Ugh. I'm going to make a mess again."  
Dr. Alm peered up at Adrian over the tops of thin glasses.  
"You did the first time?"  
Adrian hesitated and glanced at Ren, unsure just how much his stepmother had told the doctor about this. Ren did not look at him, and so he guessed he had told all.  
"Yes." Adrian swallowed, his throat thickening with the memory of it. "Everywhere."  
The elder man tsk'd and went back to looking over some pages.  
"Perfectly good waste. A lot of brides would kill for the natural blood. And you did what - just threw out the sheets?"  
Adrian blushed.  
"It was a long time ago. I don't remember."  
"Mmm." the doctor mused, "Well, you'll bleed again. Not profusely, just enough."  
Adrian bit his lip.  
"Will it hurt? That night?"  
Dr. Alm nodded.  
"It should, a little. Not worse than the first time."  
Adrian glanced at Ren.  
"And they'll - it won't look...weird?"  
The doctor frowned in confusion. Adrian clarified.   
"They won't be able to tell?"  
The man chuckled.  
"The only ones who will know the difference are you, Ren, and your husband. Who is the lucky man, by the way?"  
Adrian gazed off into the distance.  
"Sean." he answered. "Sean Wick."  
The doctor nodded in recognition.  
"Of course! Of course. Known you both since you were young. How lovely." A ribald grin overtook the doctor's face. "And quite a man he is, if I remember _his_ last physical correctly."

Adrian blushed an infinite and horrified red, and Ren regarded the doctor with a sort of vague horror. The doctor chuckled at his own comment and slapped Adrian's calf, then winked.  
"I'll be careful not to make it too thick."  
Ren's horror went from vague to highly specific. The doctor began to write notes down in Adrian's file. Adrian fidgeted uncomfortably on the bed.  
"So...can I get up now?"  
The doctor looked over at him with some surprise, as if he'd forgotten Adrian was in the room.  
"Oh! Oh, yes, certainly." he smiled warmly, "You're free to go."

~:~

The movie faded to black and Caddy got up reluctantly to click on the lights. He looked beseechingly at Henrik.  
"Another one?"  
Henrik blinked his eyes and pulled the arm he had around Phidias forward to glance at his watch. Phidias went along sleepily, half-dozing.  
"Mmm. Perhaps later, Cadmus. It is almost bedtime, and I'd prefer you to come upstairs."  
Caddy made a face.  
"I never go to bed before like, one."  
Henrik inclined his head.  
"I didn't say that you had to. Only that you must come upstairs. I don't want you sleeping down here."  
Caddy deliberately did not glance back at Anders' door.  
"I can just camp out on the sofa down here."

Henrik stared at Cadmus for a moment, then moved his arm, shifting Phidias fully awake. Phidias expressed some concern at this, blinking confusedly into the now-bright world around him. Henrik soothed his fiancée and settled him against the sofa, then leaned forward.  
"ANDERS!"  
Presently, the young man appeared in the hallway in sleeping clothes, a towel around his neck. He looked quizzically at his father.  
"Family meeting." Henrik said, shortly. Phidias was fully awake now, looking warily between Henrik and Cadmus. Henrik indicated the floor beside Caddy. Anders sat.  
"We must discuss rules."  
Anders raised an eyebrow.  
"Right now?"  
Henrik glared at him and he silenced.  
"There are some new house rules which must be instated. Caddy, I expect these all will be new to you. Anders, I expect there will be some slight changes for you, but nothing unmanageable."  
Anders inclined his head and set his jaw. Caddy almost swooned.  
"Henrik, I thought we talked about all the rules the other night, when - "  
"No. Those were expectations, Phidias, and they were for us. These are issues of the household."  
"But - "  
"Head of household speaks first, Phidias." Anders interrupted him.   
Caddy and Phidias both looked a little taken aback. Anders was focused on his father, waiting patiently for instruction. Henrik cleared his throat.  
"There is to be **no one** in this home without my express permission. Is that clear, Anders?" Anders nodded, and Henrik went on. "I'm sorry, but your friends are simply not allowed, not with Caddy living here. It would be unsafe, under any circumstances. Am I understood?"  
Anders gave another curt nod.  
"Good. Secondly, Anders, you will refer to Phidias as your stepmother. You will not call him 'Phidias' as if he were a stranger."  
"It's fine, really, if - "  
Henrik silenced Phidias with a glare.  
"Further, Cadmus, you will refer me as your stepfather. Not 'Henrik.'"  
Caddy looked uneasy with this conversation. He glanced to his father for instruction, but Phidias was busy trying to comprehend Henrik. Caddy nodded.  
"In addition, Cadmus, you are not to enter this lower portion of the house - beyond that staircase there - without my express permission. _Mine_ , not your dad's. Is that clear?"  
Caddy nodded.  
"You have been given a bedroom for sleeping. I expect you to use it for such. I do not expect to awake in the morning to find you sprawled on a sofa, a floor, or any other article of furniture not provided for this purpose." Henrik paused. "Doors to all entrances of this home will be locked at all times, going and coming. Cadmus, you are not to exit this house, under any circumstances barring fire or imminent personal danger, without my or your dad's express permission. Is that clear?"  
At least this one made some kind of sense. Caddy nodded. Henrik sat back on the sofa, snaking one arm around Phidias to pull him back into an embrace.  
"These are safety measures. We live in trying times, and Cadmus is a vulnerable member of our house. Anders, I expect you and I to protect him. Cadmus, I expect you to comply with our efforts to do so." Caddy glanced uneasily at Anders, but the young man was staring straight ahead, his attention on his dad. Henrik clapped his hands together. "Very good. You both are free to go."

Anders got up and headed back towards the hall. Caddy glanced, just once, after him, but when he turned his head back, Henrik was looking at him. His face held no judgment; he was simply looking. After they heard the click of Anders' door, Henrik said, calmly.  
"Soon, Cadmus, we should talk about school."


	17. April 11

Phidias sat in his room, quietly fingering the message in his hands.

Delayed.

Henrik had been delayed overseas. Their wedding had been delayed. Everything had been delayed.   
Involuntarily, Phidias glanced over at the calendar on his vanity.  
One month left. Not a lot of time for delays. He folded the paper and put it back in the envelope, noticing numbly that his hands were shaking.  
The word played over in his mind.

 _Delayed._

~:~

Adrian was back in class that Monday. When Cadmus and the other boys returned from their morning history lecture, he was seated in one of the comfortable chairs by the window of their main room. The boys squealed and rushed over to him, but Adrian held out his hands to stop them.  
"Careful," he warned, "Adrian's just had surgery. Adrian needs to be hugged gently." they complied, all gathering around to squeeze him lightly and ask a million questions - where had he been? Why away so long? Was he getting married? Was he having a baby? What did his fiancé look like? He was having a baby, wasn't he? Where were they going to live? What were they going to name the baby?

Adrian furrowed his brow.  
"What makes you think I'm having a baby?"  
Robbie, the youngest boy in Adrian's class, shrugged.  
"You went away for a really long time. And you didn't tell anyone you were going. You said you just were gone for the weekend. And that's how it happens, right? When you get pregnant? You just go away for a while, and then when you come back you're pregnant. Oh, and plus you get married, but you're already getting married, Adrian. We already knew that." Robbie's eyes widened as he thought about this. "But now you had better get married soon, so that everybody doesn't know that you had your baby first."  
Adrian blinked at Robbie; unexpectedly, a wave of sympathy for the life of this small boy overtook him and he started to cry. Robbie looked mortified.  
"I'm sorry, Adrian! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to - to - " he looked around searchingly at the other boys for help. "I didn't mean to make you cry. We won't tell anybody if you had your baby first, really, we won't. It doesn't matter, really!" he tried to assure his teacher.  
Adrian managed to pick himself up enough to reach out and pull Robbie into a crushing hug.  
"Thanks, Robbie. It's OK."  
Bewildered, Robbie just nodded and hugged Adrian back.

~:~

Phidias decided that the best way to spend some time experimenting with himself would be away from his own room. He felt too vulnerable there; Caddy could walk in at any time, not to mention the parade of counselors and friends who always came knocking in the afternoons and evening. He needed to do this somewhere private, away from people. Phidias reflected; Henrik was out of town. Phidias decided on the bedroom at his house.

And so, while Caddy was at school, Phidias found himself asking for a note from the counselor to excuse him from his last class. Then he picked up a chaperone, called for Henrik's driver, and headed out to the estate.

~

Last week, Henrik had given Phidias and Caddy keys to the house and permission to enter at any time. The three had ended up spending most of the weekend together at the house, enjoying each other's company until Monday morning came and Caddy had to go back to school. When the car had pulled around, Phidias had suggested that perhaps he should go back as well, but Henrik had just shrugged and smiled at him.  
"You don't have to go, you know. Not if you don't want to."  
Phidias had hesitated because he didn't like missing his commitments, even if the lunch group wouldn't be mad, and even if it was only a bunch of classes that he didn't care for anyway. Henrik, seeing his hesitation, had reached for his hand and squeezed it.  
"OK. It's OK. We'll take you back."  
"No," Phidias had said, looking back into those eyes of Henrik's that could be so mesmerizing. "No, I'll stay."

That night, while they were in bed together, Henrik had slipped one hand around to palm Phidias' cock through the thin material of his pajamas, and Phidias had had to school himself not to move, not to pull away, not to express his discomfort. But Henrik had read him, felt the muscles tense up, and had moved his hand to a more neutral location on Phidias' stomach, causing Phidias to release the breath he hadn't known he was holding. Henrik had squeezed him and kissed the back of his neck comfortingly, and Phidias had felt stupid and guilty.  
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean - "  
Henrik had interrupted him.   
"In time." he'd said. "In time."

Henrik had not pressed him after that. But Phidias was determined not to repeat the embarrassment.

~

Phidias hardly ever wore his glasses anymore, which meant that he had to squint to make out the street names as the fat black car made its way up the roads to Henrik's house. Phidias had determined a week ago that he should learn how to get here on his own, just in case, and so he did his best to memorize each turn and landmark. On the last road, they slowed, and the driver turned into Henrik's long, curving driveway.

~:~

Sean had promised he'd come for lunch, and Adrian felt an absurd amount of excitement at that prospect. It had been weird, ever since he'd been back, and he felt weird for feeling weird. He'd been back and forth from Woodacre at least ten times since he'd left for the CEC, but this time had felt different. This time, it had felt more like leaving home.

Adrian turned his book over in his hands. "The Laws of Dothan" was inscribed in gold leaf on the black leather, written again directly beneath in Aramaic, French, Spanish, and Hebrew. Adrian traced his fingers over the sinuous curve of the ancient lettering. Ren had given him this book as a birthday present, in the first year after he and Adrian's dad had been married. Adrian's name was in the corner, sans last name, of course. It was impolite, by the customs of Dothan, to give a young carrier a gift that had his father's last name on it.

It had been the first gift he'd opened on the day he gotten back from the hospital after his change. He had still felt weak, then, and walking was difficult because of the painkillers and the muscle relaxants, and so Ren had helped him into bed and stripped him, covering him only with a sheet. It had been cool in the house, Adrian remembered, but he hadn't felt cool enough to shiver. Then the men had come; the three elders of the council entered first, as they did with every new carrier, and Ren had lifted his sheet three times to show them. Then the carriers had come - the oldest matron and two virgins with him. Ren had shown them, too. Then the oldest carrier came forward felt for his seal; Adrian cringed to have strange fingers inside of him, but it was necessary, he knew, and so he held his breath and tried to be still and then it was over and Adrian was allowed to open his gifts.

 

"Reading?" Adrian startled at Sean's smooth voice. His fiancé was standing behind his chair, grinning. Adrian smiled back, and Sean moved around in front of him to take up the other seat at the lunch table. He reached out one finger and tilted the cover of the book slightly to read its title.  
"Studying." he observed, correcting his original assessment. He looked at Adrian. "That's good. That'll help." Sean adjusted himself in his seat, trying to get comfortable in his stiff uniform. Adrian cocked his head to the side, only just noticing what his fiancé was wearing.  
"Why so formal today?'  
"I had a meeting this morning. And I meet with the council today."  
Adrian paused with his soup spoon halfway to his mouth.  
"Our council?" Sean nodded, his expression unreadable. Then he looked intently at Adrian. "How are you feeling?"  
Adrian looked down at his lap.  
"Fine. I'm fine. Doctor said everything went fine. I'm fine. Kiddo's fine."  
Sean seemed to relax, then gave Adrian a wry grin.  
"Don't get used to calling him Kiddo. It'd make an awful first name."  
Adrian grinned, but Sean suddenly looked pensive, and his gaze fell on the book.  
"Maybe we can name him out of there."  
Adrian shrugged.  
"Maybe."  
"Why are you reading it, anyway?"  
Adrian shrugged again, the same weird feeling biting at him, but he recognized it now.  
"Homesick."  
"For Woodacre?"  
"For Dothan."   
Sean raised an eyebrow and looked as if he were going to say something, but then didn't.  
"What?" Adrian demanded. Sean shrugged. Adrian knew he was baiting, but he didn't care. "Tell me. What were you going to say?"  
"I wasn't going to say anything, Adrian."  
"You were obviously going to say something. Tell me."  
Sean ignored him and looked towards the food counters, then moved as if he were going to get up and go for them. Irritation overcame Adrian like a wave. He reached out and grabbed Sean's wrist.  
"Don't be an ass. Just sit down. Tell me."  
Sean looked pointedly at his wrist.  
"Let go of me."  
Adrian scoffed.  
"Tell me what you were going to say."  
Sean cocked his head.  
"Let. Go. Of. Me."  
Adrian met his gaze head on, a sudden glee arising as he realized the position they were in.  
"No. Sit. Down."  
Sean's eyes narrowed and he leaned forward, his voice snarling.  
"I swear to God, Adrian, if you don't let go of me, I will - "  
"You'll what? Hit me? While I'm pregnant? Or drag me off to your bed and fuck me instead? Waste a perfectly good surgery that _you_ had to pay for?"  
Sean stared at Adrian with a look that was pure incredulity. Whether at his fiancée's gall or at his cleverness, Adrian wasn't sure. And furthermore, he didn't care. He jerked Sean's wrist, causing his fiancé to balance himself against the table.  
"For the next week at least, you're not going to do anything. So. Sit. Down."

~:~

Aaron had come home for lunch again today. He came home for lunch every day now. They ate then went upstairs, into the bedroom. It was still difficult for Sheridan to let Soyinka touch him, but Aaron never pressed. They laid together, facing each other in bed in the bright afternoon light that shined into their shared room.

Suddenly, Soyinka spoke.  
"Are you afraid of me?" Aaron was stroking the thigh of Sheridan's leg idly where he could reach it with one hand. Sher hesitated before he answered, debating whether or not to answer with how much of the truth.  
"Not exactly."   
"Do you love me?"  
"No."  
"Like?"  
"Not yet." Aaron's stroking slowed and the silence between them continued for a few moments.   
"Do you maybe want to try to do something, today?" Aaron Soyinka waited, and felt Sheridan shift anxiously, his feet bumping against Aaron's legs.   
"I - I don't know."   
Aaron reached forward and smoothed Sher's brow with his fingers.   
"I think we should try. Would that be OK with you?" Sheridan looked up at his husband and tried to form a brave look.  
"Maybe..." he turned over so that he faced away from him now, hoping Aaron would understand.   
"You want to try what we did before?" Sheridan nodded, wanting to communicate with his body what he couldn't say with his words, and Aaron understood.   
The larger man kissed the back of Sheridan's neck gently before reaching for his own zipper. The sound made Sheridan tense up beside him, then try to cover the action by turning to offer a kiss. Aaron obliged him this, then kicked down his pants and dropped them on the floor by the bed. His shirt unbuttoned and followed, then undershirt and pants until he was completely naked, nestling into Sheridan's back.  
"Now you." Sheridan shook his head.   
"Uh-uh."  
"Danny."  
"No." it was more a plea than a declaration, and Aaron let it pass. He kissed Sheridan's back again, awkwardly working to slide his partner's pants down his legs. Aaron settled into place nestled against Sheridan's back, his already half-hard cock rubbing against the carrier's ass and thighs, and felt the other man tense again under his touch.   
"Hush. It's OK. You like this, remember?" Aaron urged Sheridan's thighs together, and encouraged Sher to hold them tight. "Just like the Greeks, remember? No penetration. Just relax. We'll stop if you want." Sheridan nodded, then did three deep breaths in and tried to exhale slowly. Autumn, his first group leader, had told him it might help him relax. He was kind of right. If nothing else, it gave him something to think about besides the fact that there was a strange man ready to faux-fuck him on the other side of the bed. Sheridan shut his eyes, and behind him, he heard rustling and then felt a wet slickness between his legs, followed by the strange jolting feeling of a slick cock thrusting insistently between his thighs. His own cock hardened a little and his cunt began to match the wetness from the lube as Aaron continued to thrust between his clenched legs, taking up a lazy pattern, lightly rubbing between his labia with every push. Aaron lingered there for a moment, his cock tantalizingly close to being inside of Sheridan. He thrust experimentally towards the warmth. Sheridan tensed.  
"Aaron - "  
"Shh. I'm sorry." Soyinka dropped his head down to Sheridan's shoulder and went back to his between-the-thighs thrust. But the safety of it was gone now, and when Aaron finally came, with a deep groan and making a mess of them both, it was such a relief to Sheridan that all he wanted was to get up and get clean. He laid in bed instead; it was cause for punishment for a carrier to leave his husband's bed before explicitly allowed. But then Aaron released the tight hold he'd had on him, and Sheridan was at least allowed to pull away far enough to stretch his legs and find a comfortable, dry spot to sleep. He looked over at the clock, then at his husband. Aaron's eyes were still closed. Sheridan shook him gently.  
"You gotta go. You're going to be late."  
Aaron cracked one eye open and looked at the clock, then closed it again.  
"Mmmm."  
Sheridan shrugged. If Soyinka wanted to be late, he'd let him. A weird feeling was crawling in the pit of his stomach, anyway. He bit his lip.   
"Was - was that OK?" Aaron folded one massive arm behind his head and looked over at the carrier to his side.  
"Quite nice, Danny. So nice." Aaron smiled with a dazed look and reached down to finger a curl of Sheridan's hair. Sheridan stared at the bed.  
"Sorry I, um - "  
Aaron interrupted him.  
"It's OK, babe. It's fine. Come here." he opened his arms, and Sheridan went. "It's OK."

Sher settled himself against Aaron Soyinka's chest, hearing so close to his own ear the heartbeat - the pounding boom boom boom of it going steadily. So loud; it seemed like it would break through his chest. What if it did? Sheridan wondered what he would do then. Would he get another six months after he'd been widowed to find a husband? Or would it be the end for him? He thought of the stories, the rumors of what the CEC did...James had been right to hate him for wanting that. Aaron's heart continued to pound. Sheridan felt a sudden, overwhelming wash of fear go through him - how could one heart beat so hard? It would surely have to quit, have to wear itself out. And then it would - what? Leave him? Leave them both. Sheridan reached out and wrapped both arms around Aaron Soyinka, trying desperately to hold his heart in place.

~:~

At first, Phidias wasn't sure what to think about. In the past, he'd always focused on Emily when he'd felt a need like this. Emily's body, her lips, the way she arched her back when she rode him. But he didn't want Emily to be here for this. He rubbed his pair of fingers back and forth across his wet slit; the wetness seemed to be spreading, he noticed - by now his thighs felt a little sticky as well.

He'd been at this for twenty minutes, at least, but it seemed he'd reached some sort of plateau. It wasn't that touching himself felt painful - quite the opposite, in fact. It was soothing, in a weird way, arousing but not overly so, just enough to keep his body producing more wetness. Phidias pulled his fingers back up to his face and examined them closely. The consistency was thin, slippery, and did in fact seem to be mostly water. He sniffed it, and it had an acrid smell that he couldn't place at first, then recognized as vaguely reminding him of vinegar. He worried over that for a minute, but then assured himself that if something was wrong, the doctors would have caught it. Wouldn't they? He made a mental note to ask at his next appointment anyway.

He dragged his fingers on the sheet to clean them off - he'd have to wash these before he left - then returned to his self-exploratory exercises. He closed his eyes and practiced, as the counselor had told him, writing the alphabet twice. After the first time, though, he got terribly bored and began writing out the first line of his dissertation ethnography. He was almost on to the second line when he thought he heard footsteps on the stairs. Phidias' eyes flew open and he propped himself up on his elbows in the bed, waiting with bated breath. After a few minutes, the footsteps faded, obviously turning into some other room, and Phidias shamefacedly remembered that Mr. Paul was still in the house; hopefully the old man had moved on to some other area now. Phidias decided he'd better be quiet, just in case. He shifted the angle of his hips and began to write the alphabet again. Oh. That felt different. Not too bad, either. Phidias wriggled his toes happily. This was going better than he'd expected it to. He arched his back to see if that changed things. It didn't, much. It seemed that now once he'd found his sweet spot, the pleasure was a little easier to hang on to. Phidias hmm'd to himself. Maybe the counselor had been right. Maybe it wouldn't be so awful if -

Oh fuck.

Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.

Henrik was standing in the doorway. The one that led into the bathroom. He must have come in through the other door - the main one was definitely locked. Phidias cursed the builders of a house with so many doors. Henrik was staring at him. Watching his hands. Phidias yanked the sheet over himself and blinked wildly at Henrik for a minute, heart pounding, chest heaving for breath, adrenaline prickling through his veins. Then he willfully closed his eyes and opened them again, hoping the horrible visage would be gone. It wasn't. Henrik was awfully persistent. His expression had shifted a little now, from the raw lust it had been at first to something tinged with amusement. Phidias began to roll to the side to get out of bed. Henrik's voice stopped him. It was rough with something - fatigue? Desire? Phidias wasn't sure.

"No. Don't get up."

He was loosening his tie now, dropping a wrinkled suit jacket on the chair by the door, and stepping forward into the room. He threw the tie over his shoulder and got to work unfastening his shirt. Phidias couldn't look at him; he shied away, his legs pulled up to protect himself, the sheet in a vice grip in his hands. He felt like his face was on fire. This was worse than all the ketchup stains, all the teasing, all the four-eyes insults he'd suffered in his life. This was absolute humiliation. Henrik was at the edge of the bed now, looking down at Phidias with a half-smile on his face.

"Don't stop what you are doing."  
Henrik reached for the sheet. Phidias' eyes widened and he clung to it tighter. Henrik laughed.  
"Let go, sweetling."  
"No?" Phidias realized that he sounded like a frightened mouse, but had no power to change that right now. All his energy went into keeping his sheet. Henrik raised an eyebrow.  
"Phidias. Let your husband see you."  
Henrik was using his calming voice. Phidias ignored it and shook his head. Henrik took this as a challenge and leaned forward, putting one knee on the bed to get more leverage. Phidias was faced with the stark reality that this thin layer of protection could be removed from him at any moment. Thoughts began swirling around his head at a maddening pace. Suddenly, he blurted out,  
"I'll bite your fingers off!"  
Before he'd even finished saying it, Phidias' was already embarrassed. Fuck. So that must be where Caddy got it.   
Henrik had paused in his sheet- stealing and was now giving Phidias the most curious look the carrier thought he'd ever been the subject of.  
"Sorry." he mumbled, and Henrik gave him an amused smile in reply.  
"It's fine."  
"I wouldn't really bite you, I just - "  
"It's OK. I know you won't. Just let go of this sheet for me, darling."   
Phidias flicked his eyes down to his hands, then to Henrik's hands. Then he ducked his head so that his hair fell into his face and calmly let go.  
Henrik smiled in satisfaction and threw the sheet to the side, far enough that it fell off the bed.   
"Ah," he said. "My prize."  
Phidias shivered under the hungry look Henrik was giving him.   
"Did you plan this for me, my darling? Did Paul tell you I was coming home?" his fiancé asked, trailing one hand over Phidias' hip. Phid snapped his legs closed involuntarily in response. Henrik calmly looked him in the eyes, put one hand in between Phidias' legs, and opened them again. Phidias tried to close them, feeling most self-conscious about being on display like this, especially after what he'd been doing; his thighs still felt sticky-wet. Henrik's voice changed tone, firmness and a little command seeping in.  
"No, keep them this way."  
There was a growl underneath the words, and Phidias felt a little shiver - of what, he wasn't sure - furrow up his spine. Henrik raised himself up onto his knees, his shirt opening wildly in all directions. For a moment, Phidias was struck by his handsomeness - strong muscles, cut jaw, an image of virile masculinity. Out of habit, Phidias picked through these thoughts, examining each one for its evolutionary advantage. Broad shoulders meant strength, and a strong mate meant -

Oh fuck.

Henrik had dropped down, with all the grace of an athlete, and quietly swallowed his cock, simultaneously slipping one finger into his wet, pink entrance. Phidias thought his eyes were going to cross.

~

After Phidias had cum and Henrik had taken his pleasure for himself, handling his cock to completion before cumming across Phidias' stomach, the two of them had laid beside each other on their backs in the bed.  
"Hmm." Henrik said, smiling in self-satisfaction, "I seem to have developed a taste for making you happy."  
Phidias laughed at his fiancé's stupid joke.  
"Well, perhaps you could find a way to keep me like that."  
The light in Henrik's eyes changed ever so slightly.  
"Yes," he agreed, "maybe I could."  
Suddenly uncomfortable, Phidias looked away.  
"How was Qatar?"  
Henrik stared up at the ceiling for a few minutes.  
"A world away." he seemed to clear his mind. "It was nice. Hot. Dry. You wouldn't like it."  
he turned over to push some of the strands of loose hair out of Phidias' face. Phidias wrinkled his nose.  
"I might. I liked the Pacific."  
"That's wet. This is dry."  
"They've got beaches, don't they?"  
Henrik didn't answer, too engrossed in the smoothness of Phidias' skin. Phidias asked another question.  
"You got back early. You didn't get delayed after all. Did you get much work done?"  
Henrik took his hand away, turning back to the ceiling.  
"Yes. Enough to last us through a wedding and such." Phidias felt a relief he hadn't known he needed. They were still on. Henrik smiled and turned, reaching for Phidias' hand. "You didn't think I had forgotten, did you? Or perhaps that I had left you?"  
Phidias shrugged. It was scary sometimes, how close Henrik came to voicing his real thoughts.  
"I just - I was worried."  
Henrik turned his head back towards the ceiling.  
"I will not leave you, Phidias. I swear I won't."


	18. April 15

Soyinka and Harley had left early in the morning for some purpose or the other. Sheridan assumed it was work-related; James assumed it wasn't.  
"If he's fucking someone else, I'll die. I swear I will."  
Sheridan calmly sliced an onion into thin slivers.  
"I'm sure he's not."  
"It's like I'm not enough for him? Really?"  
Sheridan scraped the onion from the cutting board into the skillet.  
"I'm sure you are."  
"I fuck him every day. Twice a day, sometimes. I suck him off whenever he wants. And that's not enough?"  
Sheridan stirred the vegetables in the pan and glanced at the clock.  
"It seems like it should be." he accorded distractedly.  
"He fucks me _hard_ , too. And Harley's not small; I mean, that thing hurts."  
"Mm."  
Next went the pepper; chopped into thin slices and added to the stir. James had been chopping the same carrot for twenty minutes. He paused and looked over at Sheridan.  
"How does Soyinka treat you?"  
Sheridan shrugged.  
"Fine."  
James snorted.  
"Descriptive."  
Sheridan glanced at James in irritation and took the carrot from him to finish chopping it.  
"He is kind to me. He doesn't rush me. He doesn't ask a lot. He treats me fine."  
An emotion flashed over James' face that Sheridan only caught the tail of and couldn't name.  
"Well. I bet he fucks like a beast. He looks like the type. Crazed. Wants it all the time. Demanding, but he's all power and no control."  
James shrugged dismissively and picked up a handful of mushrooms. Sheridan wondered if this last comment was supposed to be a slight of some sort. Numb as his own emotions were towards Soyinka, he still felt an urge to defend him.

"He's actually very gentle. And very skilled, and very much in control." Sheridan found himself chopping the mushrooms with a little more force than was absolutely necessary. "And he doesn't demand anything of me." A beat passed, and Sheridan debated whether to take the high road and leave it at that. He decided against it. "After all, like you said before: he's nothing like Harley."  
James tightened his grip around the cutting knife.  
"I love Harley." he forced out through gritted teeth. Sheridan agreed.  
"And I'm sure he loves you right back."

~:~

Phidias and Caddy spent the weekend at Henrik's house again. They had come in on Friday; Henrik had sent his driver to pick them up after Cadmus' private counseling, and they had also stopped to deliver one package to the post office and retrieve Anders from base before heading to Henrik's house. The errands made the ride take an hour longer than usual, and by the time they turned into the driveway, Phidias was ready to be out of the car. Cadmus, however, seated in the coach-style backseat across from Anders, had rather seemed to enjoy himself.

They exited, and Anders and the driver brought everyone's bags inside. Caddy carried his backpack and the stack of movies he'd rented from the CEC. Phidias carried his own backpack, stuffed with books that he'd been allowed to salvage from his office, and an armful of notebooks with information, records, and notes about the wedding.

Henrik had greeted them all at the door.   
"Ah," he'd said, smiling wide and throwing one arm around Phidias. "My family."

~

It was Saturday morning now, and the house was in the midst of a crisis majeure. Cadmus, Henrik had discovered upon waking, was missing.  
"Did you see or hear anyone enter or exit the house?!" he demanded.  
Mr. Paul shook his head, a grave look on his face and his hands clasped tightly in front of him.  
"No, Mr. Angstrom. Sorry. I've seen and heard nothing."  
Henrik whirled around to face Anders.  
"Anders."  
"Nothing, Dad."  
Beside Anders, Phidias was pale, but he managed to get himself together enough to give orders.  
"OK. OK. Listen, Anders, you call the CEC and find out what they've heard. Maybe something happened. Maybe he went there. Maybe they came for him."  
Anders nodded and turned to head for the telephone in the office. His father's voice stopped him.  
"Anders, wait."  
Obediently, he turned back. Henrik rubbed a hand through his hair.  
"Call your friends. Call every one of them. Find out where they are. Find where they are right now."

Phidias traced the series of thoughts cross Ander's face; first disbelief, then worry, then fear, then anger hidden behind determination. He left to do as his father had ordered. Henrik turned back to Mr. Paul.  
"Mr. Paul. You do as Phidias asked. Call the CEC." the older man bowed slightly and disappeared towards the kitchen. Henrik turned to Phidias. "Don't worry. We'll find him. I'm going to go out and check the grounds."  
Phidias started forward.  
"I'll go with you."  
Henrik glanced back at him over his shoulder.  
"Can you ride?"  
Phidias stared back at him in confusion.  
"Horseback." he clarified. Phidias shook his head, and Henrik nodded and kissed Phidias' forehead.  
"Alright. Then you stay here. In case he comes back. I'm going to ride the borders. I'll - "  
The door to the kitchen clicked open, and in walked Mr. Paul, looking very somber and holding a worried-looking Cadmus by the arm.  
"Found him."

Henrik and Phidias spun on him simultaneously.  
"WHERE WERE YOU?!"  
Cadmus blinked up at them, fear making his voice tremble.  
"I - I just wanted to go...I saw horses, from my window, I thought...I didn't go that far, Dad."  
Phidias exhaled and rolled his eyes up towards the ceiling. Mr. Paul quietly moved off to alert Anders.  
"Fine. Fine. Just - " Phidias put a hand to his chest - his heart was pounding. He took deep breaths to calm himself.  
"Just nothing." Henrik interrupted. Caddy looked over at him. "What did I tell you about leaving this house, Cadmus?"  
Caddy looked at Henrik, hesitated, and glanced at Phidias.  
"Do not look at him. Look at me. What did I tell you?" Caddy glanced down at the floor; Henrik was red in the face and his body was tense.  
"I, um - not to, um - I don't remember."  
Henrik's face shifted to disbelief, then back to anger.  
"You don't - " he took a breath and nodded. "Very well. I will remind you."  
Calmly, he began to unbuckle his belt. Caddy stepped backwards.  
"Dad - "  
"Henrik!" Phidias stepped in front of him, hands held out. "That's not - that's not necessary, Henrik, he's just a kid."  
His fiancé calmly raised one eyebrow.  
"That's exactly why it is necessary. If he doesn't learn now, he never will." He successfully released his belt and yanked it from his waist, folding it over in his hand. He looked past Phidias to his son. "Come here, Cadmus."

Caddy shook his head and backed up again; Phidias noticed that he was breathing roughly.  
"Dad?!"  
Something about the way he heard his name called compelled Phidias; he put one hand on Henrik's wrist.  
"No. Stop. You're not going to do this. You don't need to beat him. You only need to talk to him. He's not a dog or a horse or a carpet; he's a kid."  
Henrik met Phidias' eyes.  
"Phidias?" he asked evenly, "Have you already forgotten our terms?"  
Phidias' pupils dilated for just a second before he recovered.  
"I remember. But you told me punishment was for transgression. This is just forgetfulness. Caddy's like that; he's forgetful, but he doesn't mean any harm by it. He didn't mean to break your rules, he - "  
"He put himself in danger."  
"How?!" Caddy interjected. Phidias gave him a quelling glare and gently squeezed Henrik's wrist.  
"I know. But he didn't mean it."  
"He didn't mean to. And the next time he disappears, when we find him four miles from here, writhing in a field under some rogue soldier, will he not mean that, too?"  
Phidias glanced at Caddy to see if his son had heard.  
"He didn't mean it." he repeated. "And he won't do it again. And he's fine now, and things are OK. He only forgot."

Henrik still glared at Cadmus, but his grip slackened on the belt. He stared at the boy for another long moment before turning his attention to Phidias.  
"I forgive him this time. Only because it is the first time. And only because he is not yet my son."  
Phidias released his grip, and Henrik took the belt and began to fold it.  
"But I will not forgive again."

~:~

Adrian took deep breaths and tried to focus. Four hours until the ceremony took place. Ten hours until he could eat again. The fasting was necessary, he knew, in order to prepare himself for what was to come. The ceremony, the bonding, the experience. He wondered how Sean was doing. Twenty-four hours since he'd been allowed to see his fiancé, and he'd had no word about how his soon-to-be-husband was making out.

The smell of incense was stifling. Some of the spices burned his nose. But he took them in, took them all in, because he knew that the pain would cleanse. He shifted his position; the cedar bench beneath him creaked with his weight and Ren opened one eye to look him over.  
"Everything OK?"  
Adrian nodded.  
"Just peachy."  
Ren glanced at his watch.  
"I can't stay much longer in here; it's too hot and I'm too far along. I've asked June to come."  
"June's not pregnant?"  
Ren shook his head.  
"Too soon since the last one. She'll come and sit here with you."  
"He." Adrian corrected under his breath, which Ren heard anyway. It earned him an amused look as Ren stood up and stretched, his body's musculature perfectly displayed in his nudity. Ren finished stretching, grinned and ruffled Adrian's hair.  
"Don't be such an outsider. I can say 'she' if I want."

Sweat glistened on Ren's skin, which was flushed prettily from the heat in the sauna. Adrian wished for the thousandth time that Ren was his biological mother; perhaps he would have inherited some of that beauty. He looked at the clock on the wall of the small room.  
"When will June come in?"  
Ren looked up at the clock as well.  
"I think he's probably outside; shall I go and get him?"  
Adrian hesitated, wanting the new company but unwilling to spend any time alone.  
"OK. Please?"

~

The first phase of the ceremony was easy. Adrian sat facing away from the mirror at the vanity in his room at his parents' house. June sat in front of him, painting his face, and Kylie, Ren, and another young carrier all stood, already painted, in front of him.  
"There. All done."

Adrian turned to the mirror. He wasn't himself. He was Fire; Smoke and dimness and the sun after setting and the night. His eyes were black, ringed as if in kohl. His face was cast in white, the pale color making the dark around his eyes even more obvious. He blinked. Two eyes not his blinked back at him.

June looked into the mirror and smiled at his own handiwork.  
"You ready, sweetheart? Part two."  
They wrapped him in one long piece of thin white linen and led him by candlelight out of the room.

~

Part two was not so pleasant, but it was nothing he hadn't been through before. The elders, the matron and her virgins put him up on the table in the kitchen of the main house and checked him one last time, then sat him up, helped him to drink the spiced wine from the chalice that they gave him, painted a single black symbol in the center of his forehead, put a candle into his hand and waved him on.

~

For part three, he found himself outside on the porch, flanked by Ren, who was veiled, and his father. In the front of the house, the crowd had gathered. There were a few children among them; mostly the ones too young to be left for the night alone. His skin was itching underneath the paint, and his only clothing, the linen sheet, was sliding lower and lower on his hips. There were hundreds of candlelights; the majority of Woodacre had come. All were silent.   
Adrian suddenly felt nervous.

Then there was a rustling, minor commotion over to the left, and Adrian realized they were presenting his husband. His heart pounded in his chest. Sean came into view. He was out of it already, barely able to walk, restrained on either side and struggling against his guards. His skin was painted, too - red and white, with the symbols of a man of Dothan. Adrian felt some small measure of relief at seeing the colors of an adult painted on his husband - Sean must have passed the tests. He looked a far cry different from the dignified officer in uniform who had stood beside him this morning at their wedding. Now he looked half-heathen, sweating with exertion, bleeding in places, his eyes glazed and wild, his body barely clothed.

The men shuffled Sean quickly past Adrian and went inside. Adrian looked once at Ren, who tilted his head to indicate that they should follow. William Mackenzie stepped forward, a pot of lit incense in his hands, to lead the way, and Adrian trailed after him into the house.

They took the stairs slowly; Sean was fighting against the men transporting him and so it took them some time to ascend. Ren reached out to squeeze Adrian's hand, and lifted his veil to give his stepson a reassuring smile. Adrian's head started to swim, but whether it was from the nerves or the wine or the incense, he wasn't sure. He concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other and holding tight to Ren's hand.

The men held Sean off to the side as they let Will, Ren, and Adrian pass into the room. Ren paused once at the doorway, touching the top of the frame and making the sign of Dothan against his chest. Adrian hesitated, at first unsure if he was meant to repeat this part, then did the same.

Inside, his father stepped over to the bed, drawing lazy circles in smoke with the incense over it, then placed the pot down on a side table. Ren lit the four pillar candles placed in each corner and turned the sheets down, inviting Adrian to get in.

Adrian clenched his fingers tightly around the drooping waistband of his linen sheet, and stepped towards the bed. A commotion in the hallway made everyone look towards the door, but the subsequent silence brought their attention back to the ritual. Nervously, Adrian unwrapped his only clothing, and got into the bed.

Ren linked hands with Will and they walked the room once, checking for any hidden or forgotten objects that could interfere with what was meant to go on. None were found, and so they came back to the bed, and each kissed Adrian. Will Mackenzie did not speak; only made a cross over his son's forehead with his fingers and turned to go. Ren took Adrian's chin in his hand to kiss him, and almost-silently, whispered:  
"You're going to be OK. I'll see you in the morning."   
Then he turned, linked hands with his husband again, and without so much as a glance back at Adrian, left.

Adrian sat in the shadows on the bed for what felt like an hour, but was probably more like minutes, before there was movement at the doorway. Then three men appeared - Sean and the two who carried him. Adrian tried to make out their faces, but they were masked and it was impossible to do. They thrust Sean through the doorway into the room and retreated quickly. He was already untied.  
The door closed behind him.  
Adrian stayed in the shadows, not ready to move. Sean stood by the doorway, his chest heaving. He stared at Adrian. There was a moment that passed between them when Adrian wasn't at all sure the transference had been complete - Sean seemed himself for a second, seemed lucid, seemed to be in every way the man Adrian knew and loved. The ritual didn't seem real.  
Then Sean moved.  
He was like an animal. Before Adrian could move or even react, Sean was halfway across the bed, coming towards him, and Adrian could feel his furor, his frustration, and the heat from his skin. He mussed the bedsheets in his approach, smearing white paint across them and kicking anything that got in his way. His eyes were on Adrian.

Adrian tried to pretend that he wasn't afraid. Questions flashed through his head at a thousand words a second - why had he done this? Why had he agreed to it? Why had Sean? Why had he come back? Why had he left? Why had he ever wanted Sean in the first place? Why had he ever wanted this?

Then Sean was on him, so nakedly and so abruptly that Adrian lost his wind for a minute and he fought back instinctively - wriggling to try to get away - before the training set back in and he remembered to collapse, to try to lay calm. Adrian had ended up on his stomach by then, and Sean was dragging his mouth across Adrian's back, his shoulders, smearing the paint there and spreading it with his tongue. Adrian felt teeth by his neck and tensed for a moment, but then remembered to stay calm; after a minute, Sean moved on. His hands were covering Adrian's arms as well, dragging up and down the skin, slickened by sweat and paint, pushing against him in something approximating a barbarian caress. The air was pungent in the room - sweat and lust and incense all combined, and for just a second, Adrian felt like he couldn't breathe. Behind him, Sean was trying to undress himself, and so he got just a second's reprieve with which Adrian moved forward on the bed, towards the window, and repositioned himself so that he lay with his head on his forearms, and his ass in the air. Adrenaline pounded through his veins, the mad beat trying to convince him to run, go, get out, get lost, go, get out of here.

It was too late anyway. There was a crowd outside. They catch him if he ran - catch him and lock him right back in here. They wouldn't have been mad or anything - sometimes brides just need help, they knew. Got cold feet or a little panicked. But the ceremony, once begun, could not be stopped until it was complete. And once they'd caught him, time would have been wasted - Sean would have been confused, angry, waiting. The resistance would have just made it worse.

Sean was at him again, naked, probing fiercely at him with blunt fingers and murmuring under his breath. Adrian wanted to remind him to be quiet, silent for this, but he knew it wouldn't do him any good. Sean was only barely in the room. Then the fingers were gone and Sean was stabbing at him instead with his thick cock, missing his entrance entirely, struggling with the unfamiliar angle. Adrian briefly wondered what the problem was, then suddenly remembered that he should flip over - it would be better anyway; the blood would go straight to the bedsheets.He took Sean's cock in one hand and tried to make calming noises long enough to get leverage to turn himself; once Adrian had his hands on him, Sean seemed to calm a little, and the murmuring even stopped. Adrian managed to separate his legs from his husband, sparking some kind of human growl from him, and then released his cock and flipped over quickly before there could be any more debate.

Sean shook his head weirdly and then collapsed down on top of him, his full weight pinning Adrian down. He writhed, thrusting futilely against Adrian's thigh, and Adrian took pity on him and reached down to grasp Sean's heavy cock again and guide it into himself.  
Sean keened, as if frustrated, and then sheathed himself entirely inside of Adrian.  
Adrian groaned himself and squeezed on tight to Sean's arms, doing his best not to cry out.

The breaking felt less like the sharp pain he'd had last time, and more like a burning; his insides stung, and Sean's eager thrusting seemed to drag the pain out in long lines through his passage. He tried to move, but that just made the humping more violent, until Sean was shaking them both with every thrust, forcing Adrian's legs higher to be out of the way. His back was starting to ache, and his legs were about to cramp, and he was starting to worry if this really was safe for the baby, but he kept his silence and just clung on to his husband's arms. Minutes later, and there was no mercy. Adrian thought about praying for it to be over, but decided the ancestors probably wouldn't answer the wedding night prayers of someone who was only a fake virgin. He thought about appealing to Sean, but decided that he didn't really want that to work - if he could call him, make contact with him, summon his husband here, he wasn't sure he wanted it to happen. For this part of the ceremony, Sean wasn't supposed to be here.

Adrian felt tears welling up in his eyes and wasn't sure where they were coming from. His thighs felt sticky. His legs hurt. He craned his neck and was just going to wonder if he could see the moon, when out of nowhere, he was hit with a kind of all-body burning sensation. He tried to alert Sean, to fight him back, but if anything, it seemed to excite his husband more. The burning subsided into a tingling, and then a feeling like falling into sand, and he felt as if he were out of his body, floating above himself. Sean was staring at him now, his eyes fixed on Adrian's. Adrian watched it all happen from outside himself, the strange thirdpersonness giving way to some sort of immaterial lightness - a clarity of vision that he'd never felt before.   
He understood.

Then, as abruptly as it had begun, Sean gave a guttural grunt, and everything ended. Adrian slammed back into his body, suddenly, frighteningly aware of every sensation throughout himself. He focused on one. The heat of Sean's orgasm felt different than it had before; soothing, somehow - a relief. Sean's cock twitched inside of him for a moment more, before it and its owner retreated, and Sean collapsed prone on top of Adrian, breathing heavily.

After a few moments, Adrian managed to shift his half-conscious husband to the side, and slipped one finger down between his legs to the wet puddle he could feel beneath his ass. He held his finger up for inspection, squinting at it in the candlelight. White and red. Adrian let his head fall back. Thank God. It was done. Tomorrow, they would have the wedding, and then this would all be done.

Beside him, Sean was shaking and Adrian guessed at first that he must be coming back to himself, but when he leaned over to look, he saw Sean was still asleep. His skin, however, was cooling, and the words he'd been mumbling were coherent now.  
"I'm sorry." he was murmuring, again and again. "I'm sorry, Adrian."


	19. April 23 [Sunday]

The week had disappeared even more quickly than usual. Standing in the utility nook adjacent to the kitchen, waiting for the washing machine to finish with the first of the laundry, Phidias frowned and tried to remember what he'd done since last Saturday. In his old life, he would have written proposals and edited papers and finished up compliance reports and fixed up the house - his heart panged as he thought of the house; his house, the one he'd shared with Emily. The pang grew, and Phidias determinedly rubbed his chest, as if he could scrub out the ache with his bare hands. _But_ , he scolded himself, taking his hand away and setting his jaw, _Today was not a day for heartache. Henrik's house was not a place for heartache. It was a place for something new, and there were new things to think about in it._

The wedding was one of them. Henrik had set the date for their wedding - May 1, next Monday, which would be a holiday. _Mayday_ , Phidias thought idly as he chewed on gummy nub of the eraser end of the pencil he'd stuck in his mouth to keep himself from grinding his jaw. He took it out and made several more corrections to the sheet in front of him: Henrik should wear a blue suit, not black; this wasn't a funeral after all, and Alan Long should be invited. Phidias had wavered on that particular point - Alan was a dear friend, but he belonged to a part of his life that Phidias had categorized as away, done, over. If he shut it out, he could pretend it had never existed. He could move on. And besides, he didn't know if he wanted Alan to see him like this.

Phidias shut the notebook and stuck the sharp end of the pencil in his hair, which had been tied up at the back of his head in a half-hearted knot. It wasn't unbrushed - Caddy's nagging saw to that - but neither was it neatly tended, and Phidias found it had grown uncomfortably long since he'd been at the Centre. He'd never worn it short to begin with, but now it felt like too much; perhaps it was because now, without the angular planes that marked his skinnier years in the field, and also without shadow of facial hair, it felt too feminine - too loose and playful and inviting. Too much.

Phidias looked down at himself. His bare feet were dirty from spending the morning shoeless, including the time just after sunrise when he couldn't help himself and had wandered outside for a half a minute before he felt too guilty, thought he saw a face at the window, and scampered back inside. His natori was one of the longer kind - Henrik seemed to like those better - and the dark blue, printed fabric covered his knees with some kind of starburst pattern. Caddy had picked this one out. Briefly, Phidias felt a pang of longing for his old clothes - his favorite pair of jeans, in particular, which had seen him through long hot days in the Pacific sunshine and cold winters when he'd lived back home. They had been unwearable when the CEC had confiscated them, worn through at the knees and seams, but he'd wanted to keep them anyway. They had been one of the hardest things to lose.

Slow footsteps on the stairs alerted him to the fact that Henrik was awake. Phidias felt the surge of emotion that he always did - excitement, fear, irritation, and undirected anger - and felt it slowly ebb into neutrality. Henrik yawned and scratched his belly as he wandered past Phidias towards the kitchen. He kissed his cheek on the way, and Phidias noted that Henrik must have already brushed his teeth - his face smelled minty.

"Any breakfast?" he asked, and Phidias found it curious how much more pronounced Henrik's accent seemed to be in the morning - as if he'd spent all night speaking Swedish and had to re-accustom himself to English in the morning. Then Phidias processed the question he'd been asked, and worry jolted through him. Was he supposed to make breakfast? Had Henrik said that? Had _he_ said that? Why should Henrik expect him to make breakfast, anyway? Why couldn't they share? Plenty of other societies had learned how to share responsibilities. Why did Henrik have to be so backwards? Phidias looked up at his fiancé, prepared to say all this, but Henrik's expression was so innocent that it suddenly seemed wrong. The man was waiting patiently for his response.  
"No. Coffee, but no breakfast."  
"OK." Henrik kissed him again, on the lips this time, and went towards the kitchen. "I will make some."

As soon as Henrik was gone, Phidias wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand. Moments later, Henrik reappeared, a mug of coffee steaming in his hand. He leaned against the counter opposite Phidias.  
"You've been thinking again."  
Henrik put special emphasis on the word thinking, making it sound almost naughty, and Phidias glanced up at him and grinned.  
"Sorry. I can't help it."  
Henrik nodded his concession on this point.  
"So. What have you been thinking today?"  
Phidias shrugged; Henrik waited, but no further answer was forthcoming.  
"Alright. Have you been thinking about our baby?"  
Phidias felt his stomach drop out and his heart jump into his throat. He glanced at the entrance to the nook, hoping to see Anders or Caddy or Mr. Paul there - any excuse not to have this conversation right now.  
"I - I haven't."  
Henrik sipped his coffee.  
"You should. It will be soon."  
Phidias bit his lip.  
"I'll be fine."  
Henrik looked him over with an expression that was not skeptical, but didn't look entirely convinced, either.  
"Of course you will be fine. But I want you to be good."  
Phidias swallowed and rubbed one foot on the opposite calf, leaving a gray mark.  
"I will be. Emily did it. I can do it." he paused. "And besides, it's not the pregnancy that - " he cut himself off, bit his lip again. Henrik leaned forward, wanting to probe.  
"It's not the pregnancy that...what?" Phidias shrugged and crossed his arms over his chest. The window held a sudden interest for him. "That...scares you?" Henrik pressed.  
Phidias met his eyes and nodded.   
"It's the birth. When Caddy was born...Emily's time...it was horrible." he answered, frankly, fear slipping into his voice.   
Henrik took another sip of the coffee and then set it down on the counter.  
"Do you feel you will be unable to do it, Phidias?" Phidias shot a look up at him and looked away. Henrik continued. "Do you feel you will be unable to fulfill our terms?"

A meaningful silence hung between them, and images of all Phidias would sacrifice if he said yes flashed through his mind. He only had a few weeks left before his deadline. There was no way he could back out now. He felt annoyance with Henrik, suddenly, for even asking him that. As if he had a choice.  
"No. I can do it. I just..."  
Henrik smiled gently and moved forward to place both hands on Phidias' shoulders.  
"Then I will do everything in my power to make it easier for you. I don't want you to be in pain, even to give us a child. I believe in you, Phidias, and I believe you can do this."  
Henrik tried to get Phidias to meet his eyes, but his fiancée refused to look up at him.  
"Hey. Come. Look at me."  
Phidias did, but only for a second before returning his gaze to the window. Henrik pulled him into a hug and kissed the side of his head.  
"You will be wonderful."

~:~

Adrian stepped carefully over the piles of lumber and tools strewn about the worksite, carrying a basket of food. Ren followed closely behind him with two baskets, and Kylie tagged along after, bringing up the rear with two jugs of water. The men had been at work since sunrise, wanting to get as much done as possible before the heat of midday overwhelmed them or they had to leave for their daily jobs.

"Be sure to thank everyone." Ren reminded him as they picked a clear, flat spot in the grass and began to lay out the breakfast they'd brought. Adrian nodded.

William Mackenzie looked up, smiled, and waved from the top of a scaffold, where he was hammering a beam into place. Sean noticed and did the same, then handed off his drill to a nearby worker and began to climb down his side of the house. Ren nudged Adrian and he set his basket down and went over to meet his husband.

Sean dropped the last eight feet to the ground gracefully, and Adrian was suddenly reminded of their youth, of retrieving balls from roofs and climbing trees by the pond and the half-elegant, half-insane dives that Sean used to make from the short cliffs on the lower part of the bluffs. Sean pulled off his gloves and rubbed the back of his left hand across his sweaty face. He looked tired, but blissfully happy. He kissed Adrian, then put both hands on his stomach.  
"Hey." Sean said, gently. Adrian grinned down at him.  
"Hey yourself." he looked over Sean's shoulder. The men were slowly coming down from the scaffolding to make their way over to breakfast. "Our house looks good."  
Sean beamed.  
"You think so?"  
Adrian smiled back.  
"Yeah. You hungry? I made cinnamon toast for you."  
Sean moved his hands off of Adrian to adjust the collar of his shirt.  
"Yes! I love you. Listen, did you talk to the CEC yet?"  
Adrian shook his head.  
"Later." he mumbled. Sean frowned.  
"Later? Well, you've got to talk to them soon, don't you? Give them time to find a new group leader for your kids."  
Adrian shrugged and looked away. Sean frowned.  
"Adie, we talked about this. You won't have time to - "  
"I know." Adrian cut him off. "I know what we talked about, Sean. I was there. Anyway, I said I'm going to do it, and I'm going to do it. Just leave it alone already."  
Sean stared at his wife and shifted his gloves from hand to hand.  
"You sure that's the way you want to talk to me?"  
Adrian hated it when Sean's voice took on that superior tone, and he'd spent the morning alternately having morning sickness and making breakfast for the men, and so was very much not in the mood to hear it. He crossed his arms over his chest and gave Sean a sulky glare.  
"Yes."  
"Yes?"  
" _Yes_." Adrian put as much annoyance as he could into the single syllable.  
Sean nodded and tucked his gloves into his pocket.  
"Alright. That's one. You'll get your punishment when I get home tonight."  
Adrian flipped his hair back, out of his face.  
"It's too early in the morning for your superior bullshit, Sean."  
Sean stared at him.  
"That's two. I've told you before about your language."  
"I - "  
"Get to three, and I'll make your punishment public. So I suggest you choose your words very carefully."  
Adrian just stared at his husband, trying to gauge how serious Sean was. His husband's face was stoic, and his eyes were distant - their wedding night came rushing back, and Adrian had to take a breath and look away from him.  
"I wasn't...this is stupid, Sean."  
Sean shook his head.  
"It's not stupid. I am not your father, and you are not a child. It's my indulging you that's gotten us both in trouble in the past. You don't get to run roughshod all over me; not like you used to."  
Adrian was about to react to that, but the idea of Sean punishing him here, in front of people, was enough to deter him to silence. Sean was looking past him now, towards the breakfast spread.  
"You'll learn better behavior, Adrian." Sean looked back at him, affection in his eyes that seemed at odds with his words. "I'll teach you."

~:~

It was afternoon, and Phidias and Henrik sat patiently in the sunroom on the far side of the house, where they had all agreed they'd like to eat lunch. The boys were in the kitchen; Anders had volunteered to make sandwiches, and Caddy had volunteered to help him. Henrik had given Caddy a skeptical eye and sent Mr. Paul to oversee.

So until their meal appeared, Henrik and Phidias sat alone in the sunroom, facing each other across the low coffee table. Phidias was busy reading pages of the local paper which Henrik had bought in town the day before, and when he looked up from an article on new legislation regarding emigration, Henrik was unabashedly watching him. Phidias felt his face heat immediately, and he cleared his throat and sat back in his chair.  
"I - um - ahem."  
Henrik moved the rest of the paper from its place beside him and indicated the seat.  
"Come. Sit beside me, Phidias."  
Phidias hesitated, but came to the other side of the table without protest. Henrik smiled at him and carded his fingers through Phidias' hair.  
"You look beautiful today."  
Phidias turned his head to look at Henrik's face. Compliments like that still surprised him; Henrik seemed so exceedingly handsome that he couldn't imagine being considered beautiful in comparison.  
"Thank you." he mumbled.  
Henrik used the hand that was in Phidias' hair to turn his head for a kiss. It was gentle but sexual - undemanding, but definitely asking. Phidias pulled back from it and touched his hand to his mouth.  
"Um."

It had been a week since he and Henrik had had their first...encounter, and although Henrik had not pressured him to go further since then, he had also been sure to maintain the new degree of sexuality in their relationship. Kisses that were chaste before had turned inquiring, and Henrik made no effort to disguise his desire for Phidias. Although he had made no demands of Phidias, and didn't even seem annoyed when Phidias stopped him or pulled away, the air seemed to sing with a sort of expectation that Phidias knew he had not yet fulfilled. The conversation this morning about pregnancy - the inevitable end - had made the tension thicker.

"I have a surprise for you." Henrik suddenly said, looking off through the glass of the sunroom. Phidias raised both eyebrows.  
"Oh?"  
"Yes. You'll get it after dinner tonight."  
At Phidias' skeptical look, Henrik laughed and squeezed his shoulder.  
"An actual gift, Phidias. And a good one. I assure you you'll like it."  
"Like what?" Anders was in the doorway, carrying a silver tray in one hand and a stack of plates in the other.  
Henrik released Phidias and leaned forward to move the newspaper from the table, out of Anders' way.  
"His gift."  
Anders glanced at his dad, but didn't press.  
"Oh. Caddy, set that here and grab a seat."  
Cadmus was trailing behind Anders, carrying a jug of what looked to be lemonade and four cups. He placed them down on the table and took the chair beside Anders.  
"Well, you have here, straight from our very own kitchen, courtesy of Chef Anders and his loyal assistant, Cadmus," - at this, Caddy grinned even wider - "A lunch of curried goat sandwiches and a salad of garden greens, accompanied by fresh lemonade."  
With a flourish, Anders removed the lid from the tray and set it to the side. Henrik grinned a little at his son's performance.  
"Well, dig in."

Over lunch, they talked about a variety of topics - Anders told them about his studies and training; he was best in biology, he said, and crap at chemistry, which made Henrik frown in annoyance. Caddy shrugged about this.  
"That's OK. I'd be bad at it, too. Chemistry sucks. I'm just glad I don't have to learn it."  
Henrik looked at Cadmus directly.  
"I'm sorry, Cadmus?"  
Caddy looked up at his dad, unsure if he'd said something wrong. Phidias' face held annoyance, but gave no other clues.  
"Just...that we don't have to learn that stuff."  
"We?" Anders asked, interested as well.  
"Carriers." Caddy said, sheepishly. "Carriers don't have to learn stuff like that."  
Henrik blinked at Cadmus for a moment.   
"I see."

Afterwards, they went into the kitchen to clean up, but Mr. Paul, who was seated at the counter in a worn blue robe, reading, stopped them with a smile.  
"Please. I've made no other contribution today, and must earn my keep in some small way. Let me do them."  
They conceded, and wandered out onto the back patio, where Anders suggested the four of them take a walk around the grounds.  
"Caddy and Phidias haven't seen the place yet, have they?" he asked his father. "Hey! Maybe we could take the horses."  
Caddy's face lit up. Phidias hesitated.  
"Caddy and I can't ride."  
Henrik looked over at them.  
"That's OK. You and Cadmus can learn. And don't worry - we'll put you on the slow mares. No one is going to get hurt."  
Phidias nodded.  
"Alright. Which way to the stables?"  
Just then, the phone rang and Henrik glanced at his watch. After a moment, Mr. Paul appeared, poking his head out of the back door.  
"Dr. Alexander? Telephone call for you."  
Four surprised faces met this news. Phidias glanced at Henrik, who shrugged.  
"I'll be right there."

A few minutes later, Phidias reappeared, his face looking pinched. Caddy and Anders were busy stroking one of the pretty chestnut mares and barely noticed Phidias' reappearance. Henrik saw his fiancée's expression and frowned.   
"Everything all right, Phidias?  
Phidias managed a strained smile at the three of them.  
"Yeah, just the CEC checking in. No problem."   
There was a curious silence for a few seconds, then Phidias clapped his hands together.  
"So! Who's ready to ride?"

~:~

Sheridan stood in the kitchen, shoulder to shoulder with Aaron, who was stirring the sauce in the pan on the stove. Across the kitchen island, James was chopping vegetables and Harley was doing nothing discernibly useful. Theoretically, he was reading over a case file, but to Sheridan, it looked a lot more like he was polishing off his third martini.

"Here." James said, handing a chopped plate over to Sheridan. "All done."

Sher took it and for a minute their hands brushed; James smiled up at him, shyly, and Sheridan gave him a quick grin back. Aaron didn't notice - he was busy keeping the sauce from burning. But when Sheridan looked back up again, Harley was watching him.

Sheridan did his best not to react and went back to seasoning the steaks. James didn't notice.

~:~

"No, I can't tell him that. He'll think I - "  
"Caddy?"  
Cadmus jumped and stopped speaking abruptly, turning quickly towards the door. Phidias stuck his head in first, then entered and looked around.  
"Who were you talking to?"  
Cadmus looked nervous, then interlocked his fingers and looked down at his hands, fidgeting in place.  
"Nobody." he paused, then said more quietly, "Mom."  
Phidias felt his heart pang again, but resisted it. He couldn't get emotional now - this was not the time to reminisce.  
"Well, we need to talk now."  
Caddy looked up at him, curious.  
"The CEC called today."  
Caddy didn't react.  
"You weren't in class Thursday or Friday."  
Now Cadmus looked caught out.  
"I - "  
"Explain."  
Caddy paused and looked down at his hands, then began to speak hurriedly.  
"Look, it's not as bad as you think, I didn't skip a whole lot because Adrian wasn't even mostly there anyway and it's not like we did real stuff, it's just like if you missed a free class, I just didn't check in, that's all, and I wasn't just not going, I just did other stuff, I was learning and at the library and stuff like that."

Phidias blinked at his son. Cadmus didn't even look like he'd convinced himself. Phidias felt anger rising in him.  
"Caddy, where _were_ you? Did you leave the CEC?! Have you been sneaking out?! I've told you a thousand times about telling someone where you are going! You're not a little boy anymore, you can't just - "  
"DAD! I didn't sneak out. I was in the CEC. I was just...busy."  
Phidias looked confounded.  
"Busy doing what?!"  
Caddy looked uncomfortable, crossing his arms over his chest and turning away from Phidias.  
"I was with Ashby."  
Phidias frowned.  
"He...he said he didn't feel good, and I didn't want to leave him. I was worried about him."

OK, so that wasn't entirely the truth, but Caddy figured it was close enough to count. Ashby had had a little bit of a headache on Thursday, and they had figured that catalog shopping would be good medicine for that. Besides, the stupid substitute had been teaching that day and he had already sent Cadmus two notes home about poor performance on his work. Going in would have just given the jerk another reason to complain.

Phidias frowned as he considered this.  
"I thought you didn't even like Ashby."  
Caddy shrugged.  
"He's OK when he doesn't take some of his meds."  
Phidias shook his head to clear it.  
"OK. Fine. I appreciate your concern for somebody else, but why didn't you at least let your teacher know? Why not check in?"  
Cadmus shrugged.  
"I forgot."  
"You for - Caddy!" Phidias hissed. "You cannot just forget something like that. The CEC could have thought you were missing! You could have gotten in a lot of trouble!"  
"I checked in for meals."  
"Caddy! I left you alone for those two days with the understanding that you would do everything expected of you, including go to class!"  
"But I did want to, I just had to help Ashby!"  
Phidias rubbed his hand over his face in frustration. He exhaled.  
"Listen, I can't deal with this right now. Henrik and I have plans for the evening. I need to shower and get ready. But rest assured: you and I will discuss this further."  
Phidias turned to go.  
"Dad, wait!!" Caddy's voice sounded panicked, desperate. Phidias turned around. "You won't...you won't tell Henrik, will you? Please? He'll be so mad. He'll - he'll hit me."  
Caddy's lower lip trembled and his eyes looked so wide and brown. Phidias hated this - he hated letting his son live in fear of being beaten like he was the victim of some kind of fairytale villain stepparent.  
"Look, I - I won't tell him, OK." Caddy relaxed. "This time." Phidias stressed. He paused, one hand on the doorknob. "It'll just be our secret. But don't do it again."  
Caddy nodded seriously.  
"I won't."

~

Henrik looked up from his book with a weird expression when Phidias walked in, and for a single panicked moment, he thought he and Caddy had been overheard. But then the expression disappeared, replaced with a happy calm.  
"Everything alright?"  
Phidias nodded.  
"Yes. Just fine. You're sure Caddy will be OK for the night?"  
Henrik laughed.  
"It's only a few hours, Mr. Paul is here, Anders is not, and I had the CEC send over a chaperone just in case. We're not even going off the property. I am sure he'll be OK."  
Phidias bit his lip and nodded.  
"I'll just hop in the shower, and then we can go, OK?"  
Henrik inclined his head.  
"OK."

Presently, Phidias was washed, dressed, and ready to go. Henrik, who had used the time to gather some last minute details, smiled up at his fiancé as he entered the room.  
"You look fantastic, Phidias."  
Phidias colored and smoothed down the edges of the new natori Henrik had given him - it was a dark red color, woven in with gold thread in a complex, pretty pattern. Golden elephants decorated each corner.  
"The natori suits you."  
Phidias grinned ruefully.  
"Thanks to your good taste. I can't pick out these things."  
Henrik smiled and reached out a hand to lead Phidias out of the room. He held his hand as he led him downstairs and through the hall, through the kitchen and out onto the back patio. Phidias stopped at the edge of the brick.  
"Where are we going?"  
Henrik smiled again.  
"Trust me?"  
Phidias hesitated, but squeezed Henrik's hand to tell him to go on. Henrik squeezed back his appreciation.  
"We are going to the greenhouse."  
Phidias raised an eyebrow, but didn't ask any more questions. They walked out into the grass, damp in the night time, and the house sparkled its lights behind them. Phidias figured at least, if anything went really horribly wrong, he could find his way back by those lights.

Then Henrik turned towards the left side of the house, and Phidias saw the building he hadn't noticed before, sparkling a little in the moonlight. It surprised him that he hadn't seen it - it was large and relatively close to the house; they were almost there already. Henrik glanced back over his shoulder. Phidias had his brow deeply furrowed - the adorable expression he usually wore when he was thinking hard about something. Henrik guessed he must be puzzling through some particularly difficult problem - what the surprise was, most likely - and grinned to himself. His fiancée was so endearing.

As soon as he stepped inside, Phidias felt the change of atmosphere. Where the night outside was cool and brisk, the air inside the greenhouse was warm and humid, almost tropical. Henrik came in after Phidias, gently closing the glass door behind himself while Phidias looked around in awe. The place was huge and so...green. It was practically a rainforest - trees and flowers and large green leaves sprung out of everywhere. Henrik kissed Phidias's hand and pulled him along.  
"Come on. The place for us is at the back."

Phidias followed, looking up above them to where he could see the stars twinkle through the glass roof, and allowed himself to be led by the hand. When he looked back down from the stars again, it was because Henrik had come to a stop. In front of them, complete and perfect as if it had been blinked into place by a genie, was a beautiful Moroccan tent, nestled in a clear space between two small palm trees, its cloth trappings stirring gently in the breeze from the overhead fans. A soft glow lit it from the inside. Phidias looked up at Henrik, who smiled and stepped forward to open the flap, welcoming him in.

Inside was a room transformed. The soft glow came from a small battery light, fashioned in the style of an antique oil lamp and set in the middle of a carpeting of blankets and rugs so thick it must have been four inches off the floor. Pillows lined the wall of the tent, marking a circular boundary, and a glittering golden elephant dangled from the center of the tent's roof. Three silver trays sat covered on short-legged folding tables, and a bottle of wine was cooling in ice, off to the side. Phidias felt his heart pound. No one had gone to such lengths for him in so long...

"This is...this is amazing, Henrik."  
Henrik smiled, coming to stand behind him.  
"I did this for you." he kissed Phidias' cheek. "I told you: I am a serious man, but also a romantic man."  
Henrik kicked off his shoes and padded over to find a good spot to recline on the blankets.  
"Come. Dinner will get cold. Let's eat."

~

Phidias knew it was coming. He wasn't some oblivious teenager, and he wasn't some naïve ingénue. He knew what was happening. It wasn't a surprise, and it didn't catch him off-guard. But it was still _startling_. Henrik kissed him over their second glass of wine (well, his second - Henrik was still on his first) and when Phidias tried to pull away, he didn't let go. He kept his hand where it was, on the back of Phidias' neck, caressing his skin in nice even strokes, looking seriously into his eyes. Phidias did his calming breaths and didn't move. He sat frozen, waiting, anticipating the move that would push the scene over the edge, take it from possibility to certainty. He felt like a mouse in the paws of a cat. Abruptly, Henrik released him and turned away.  
"I almost forgot. Your gift. You haven't gotten it yet."  
Phidias blinked in surprise.  
"I thought this was my gift." he looked around himself at the lush surroundings once again. "It's more than enough gift for me."  
Henrik was rifling through his jacket pockets.  
"No, this is more. This is special. This..." he turned back, presenting a small black box to Phidias, which he flicked open with one hand. Inside was a thin platinum band, decorated along the outside with a smooth inscription. "...is for you."

Phidias stared at the ring. Henrik suddenly didn't look himself - he seemed discomfited. He fidgeted in his seat, looked up at Phidias with an expression that seemed almost...anxious. Henrik offered the ring up to Phidias.  
"I never asked you properly. Marry me?"  
Phidias bit his tongue to keep himself from saying something snarky. He took the ring from its casing and put it on his finger.  
"OK. Yes. Thank you, Henrik. I'll marry you."  
Henrik seemed relieved, which perplexed Phidias, but he didn't have time to further consider it, because then his now-official fiancé dived down to capture his mouth in a kiss.

After a few seconds, he pulled back and looked Phidias in the eye, then reached up to stroke his hair.  
"I don't want to stop tonight, OK?"  
Phidias tried to keep every emotion off of his face. The wine seemed like it might help with that, so he leaned away from Henrik and took another sip.  
"OK."  
Henrik smiled and kissed him, shifting them slightly so that he had a bit more leverage. He slid one hand under Phidias' shirt, lifting it from the flushed skin. That hand stayed there, making firm strokes on the skin as he nipped his way down Phidias' neck before returning to his mouth for a kiss. Phidias suddenly felt awkward, unsure what do with his hands or his body. Henrik moved the hand up so that his fingers feathered across Phidias' chest, brushing a nipple in passing.  
"It's just the first time." he soothed, speaking directly into Phidias' ear. "It doesn't have to be perfect." Phidias nodded. Henrik frowned, looking away, to the side. He retrieved something from his jacket pocket, then held it up for Phidias to see. "I'm going to use a condom tonight."  
Phidias blinked at him, grasping the significance of this act immediately. Henrik was giving him a chance to change his mind, a last opportunity to back out. The condom disappeared from Phidias' sight, and Henrik looked him squarely in the eyes.  
"I won't do this again."  
Phidias swallowed thickly and nodded. He understood.

Henrik wanted Phidias to relax, and so he laid him out on his back to pleasure him with his mouth first, hiking up Phidias' natori and rubbing his thumbs in soothing circles on his hips. After Phidi had cum, Henrik rubbed his belly while he rode his afterglow out, then gently began to untie the knots that held Phidias' natori in place and unwrapping it from his body, helping Phidias to lift his hips each time. Phidias was grateful for the dim light of the lamp - naked from the waist down, he felt exposed. Only the low light preserved some of his modesty. Seeing him this way, however, seemed to incite Henrik; his breathing quickened and he stared down at Phidias. If Phidias could have been in Henrik's place, he would have known why - stretched out as he was, laid on his own natori, in their secret tent bedroom of maroons and dark golds, with the lamplight licking across his skin and the humid air bringing little beads of sweat to bear in the crevices of his body, Phidias was beautiful, and Henrik was enthralled.

Rapidly, he stripped off his own shirt and began to tug upwards on Phidias' top, needing to see and touch more bare skin. Phidias tried to be active, to participate. The counselor had advised him to at least do that much, so he put his hands nervously to Henrik's belt, then wasn't quite sure what to do and stopped. Above him, a small noise escaped his fiancé before Henrik cleared his throat.  
"It's OK, Phidias." he soothed. "I won't bite. I promise."   
For emphasis, he leaned down to kiss the side of the younger man's head. Phidias bit his lip and focused; with great effort, his fingers managed to get the buckle undone and the pants unbuttoned, and then Henrik was kicking them off and Phidias was impressed all over again by the way the muscles worked in his arms and his back as he lifted himself.

Nude, Henrik outfitted himself with the condom, and then his attention was back on Phidias. He reached forward and grasped his fiancée about the hips, pulling him backwards and lifting Phidias' legs around his waist.

It wasn't the closeness that did it - it was the lack thereof. The space between their chests suddenly felt like miles, and Henrik's face floated in front of him disconnected; he had no sense of place suddenly, no idea where he was or who this man was on top of him. Phidias suddenly felt terrified, like this had all been some bad idea or a bad dream or just an awfully unfunny joke, and he wanted it all to stop.  
"Stop!"  
Henrik obligingly took both hands off of Phidias and raised them in front of his face.  
"Stopping. Are you OK?"  
Phidias propped himself up on his elbows and shook his head frantically; his head felt like it was swimming, and he wondered if passing out would be a worse or better way to end the evening. Henrik was looking at him strangely, a mix of lust, concern, and something else in his eyes.  
"Are you sure you're going to be able to do this, Phidias?"  
There it was again - the undercurrent, the subtle question. Of course he was going to be able to do it - he had to do it, didn't he?

Phidias took a slow breath and nodded his head.  
"Yeah, I'm - I'm fine. I just...I'm fine." Henrik looked unconvinced, and his hands were still raised in the air, so Phidias reached out and took each of them in his own, placing them back on his hips. "I'll be fine." he repeated.  
Henrik's face relaxed, and he leaned down to nuzzle the skin at the base of Phidias' neck.  
"Should I be quick?" he asked quietly.  
Phidias nodded vigorously, and Henrik offered him half a strained smile before resuming his position between Phidias' legs. The transformation was instantaneous - suddenly, Henrik was all business about it, no longer caressing, only moving irrevocably forward towards his goal.

Phidias didn't say anything else during that time, only bit his lip and made a little noise of complaint as Henrik's cock penetrated him for the first time. Henrik was more impressive in thickness than length, and for a minute, Phidias felt overfull and didn't know if he would, in fact, be able to do this. Henrik felt the tension, waited patiently for a moment, his dick throbbing uncomfortably inside of Phidias until a squeeze of the legs around his back gave him the go-ahead. He let himself farther down, closing the space between them so that they were pressed skin to skin, chest to chest; for some inexplicable reason, Phidias suddenly felt safe. He looked up at Henrik, then at the ceiling of the tent, where the golden elephant jiggled in the breeze, and tried his best to be present, to stay alert in his experience. There was pain, yes, but also some strange feeling of rightness and the undeniably arousing feeling that the sensation of penetration brought.

Phidias tightened his grip on Henrik's back as his partner, enticed by the warmth and tightness of his channel, began to quicken his thrusts, pulling out and back in, plunging deeper than before. Phidias cried out when he bumped a spot very deep within him that seemed to amplify both his discomfort and his arousal. He could feel himself getting wet, the weight changing in his groin. Henrik nipped his shoulder, began thrusting harder.  
"Hen - Henrik." Phidias put one hand to his chest, tried to push him away a bit. He just needed a minute, needed to regain some control, over his breathing or his body or his something...Henrik spared him one look, flashed eyes dark with lust and the tiniest fringe of rage.  
"Please, Phidias. Don't stop me. Let me have this. Do this for me." Something in Henrik's voice made his plea compelling, and Phidias' face burned immediately with guilt; he took his hand away. Henrik's thrusts began to speed up, and he lifted one of Phidias' legs to his shoulder for better leverage. Phidias shifted to get comfortable, and the movement made his muscles clench around Henrik's cock, causing them both to groan.

Henrik didn't take long after that, and he came hard, pressing deep into Phidias' body before collapsing onto him. He lay still on top of Phidias for a minute, panting against his chest before raising himself and rolling over to lay on his back, releasing his mate. Quietly, he removed the condom and dropped it into a napkin on the tray. Then there was silence between them, Phidias staring blankly up at the tent over their bed, wishing he could catch, through the fabric, at least little glimpses of the stars, and Henrik just beginning to feel guilt through the haze of his buzz. He hadn't meant to rush this. And he hadn't meant to frighten Phidias. This whole thing was never going to work if his husband was scared of him. Henrik was just rolling over to speak, to say something, to try to fix the situation when Phidias spoke.  
"Do you think Cadmus will be OK? I'd rather sleep here, if that's OK with you."  
Relief flowed through Henrik. Phidias seemed still himself, still unbroken.  
"It's fine, Phidias." he replied, sitting up and reaching for his shirt to wipe them both down. Phidias flinched at that, but Henrik kept his touch consistent - he would have to become accustomed to it sometime, anyway.   
"Are _you_ fine? Have I hurt you?"  
Phidias thought through this, trying to catalogue all the feelings in his body.  
"No. You haven't hurt me. I'm OK."  
Henrik nodded and stretched up to kiss him.  
"More than OK, Phidias. You are perfect."

Phidias shook his head; his face had a nice flush already from the sex, but it deepened at the compliment. Henrik turned away, reaching out to drag over some of the blankets and cover them both, then turned out the lamp. To his surprise, Phidias nestled up immediately to his side, and drifted off quickly. Henrik, however, lay awake for almost an hour more, contemplating his current life.


	20. April 28

At nine o'clock in the morning, Sheridan Soyinka stood naked at his mirror, brushing his hair. Behind him, James sat on the edge of his and Aaron's bed, a damp towel slipping off of his hips, his legs swinging beneath it.

"I just think he's been acting weird. That's all." Sheridan nodded dumbly and continued to drag the brush through his hair. James idly drew a circle around his own belly with one finger. "Maybe it's just nerves," the other carrier muttered. "Maybe he'll be better once I start to show." Sheridan nodded again, his brow creasing. The change in his expression didn't escape James' notice. "What's wrong?"  
Sheridan just blinked at the mirror.  
"Nothing."  
"Oh, come on. I can tell you've - "  
"Nothing."  
James rolled his eyes.  
"Sheridan."  
"I wish it was me."  
James quieted.  
"Oh."  
"More than a month. Nothing. No baby. Do you think they'll start asking questions?"  
James looked uneasy.  
"Are you sure you're doing everything you can?"  
Sheridan shrugged. The brush caught on a tangle in his hair, but he dragged it through, catching his hair out by the root.  
"No drugs. Yet. But everything else."  
James sat forward.  
"The Centre said you're OK?"  
"They said I'm fine."  
There was a pause.  
"Then maybe it's him."  
Sheridan caught the brush on another tangle and pulled this one out more furiously.  
"Maybe it is."

~:~

Sean smoothed the hair away from Adrian's forehead and kissed it.  
"Wake up, sweetheart."  
Adrian stirred, opened his eyes, and lifted his head.  
"Shit. What time is it?"  
Amiably, Sean answered as he straightened up.  
"Nine."

Adrian snapped upright in bed to look at his husband, his heart pounding. Sean was standing at the foot of the bed, half-dressed in his uniform. In his right hand, he held a welting lash.

"Oh, _fuck_!" he blurted, fear jolting him into wakefulness. Sean calmly continued buttoning his shirt. "Sean, I didn't mean to oversleep! I was just **really** tired. I'm sorry. Don't be mad." Sean watched him impassively, then spoke.  
"What time did you go to bed last night?"  
"Eleven." Adrian answered immediately, even though they both knew that it was a lie. Sean gracefully ignored that fact.  
"And did you set the alarm last night?"  
Adrian hesitated.  
"I thought I would remember to, I just - "   
"Yes or no, Adrian."  
Adrian ground his teeth for a second.  
"No."  
"So what are you late for?"  
"Work."   
"And?"  
"...and my chores."  
Sean nodded.  
"So who had to do your chores, Adrian?"  
Adrian closed his eyes for a second, then opened them again.  
"Everyone else."   
Sean nodded.  
"So what will you have to do?"  
Adrian looked around for a second, but there was no point in delaying the inevitable.  
"Be punished."  
"Very good."  
Sean reached for his jacket, laid out on one corner of the bed, and shrugged into it. In his right hand, he still held the lash, and with that hand, he pointed to the floor in front of him.  
"Here. Now."  
Adrian blinked at his husband for a few seconds, trying to process the situation. Sean cocked his head to the side, just slightly.   
"Adrian, that was a command - not an offer."  
The carrier stared down the bed at his husband.  
"I won't kneel." he said it quietly, but firmly. Sean's expression was implacable.  
"This is Dothan. You will kneel."  
Adrian shook his head; Sean tilted his.  
"Adrian. We can do this the easy way, or we can do this the hard way. You can come and kneel before your husband, as is proper. Or you can choose behavior which defiles the sanctity of the relationship between us. You can do what you know is right, or you can turn away from Dothan. Which will it be?"

Adrian's chest was heaving, Sean noted, by the time he finished speaking. His words were having an impact, then. He watched closely, but the harsh breathing didn't appear to increase or become erratic - Adrian was in no danger of hysteria or hyperventilation. So Sean waited, as his father had taught him to do, and watched. Long moments passed, and just when he felt sure that Adrian would force his hand, there was movement from the bed. Adrian unfolded his long, elegant legs from beneath himself, and, as gracefully as any Dothan wife, knelt on the floor before Sean. The rush of emotion that Sean felt was overwhelming; for a few seconds, it was he who lost his breath. But to finally have Adrian, the one he had wanted, had loved for so long, doing this for him, kneeling before him willing and waiting...it was indescribable. Unable to resist, he reached out gently and stroked Adrian's hair.  
"Very good." he murmured. "I didn't have to bring you back."

With a sternness that would have done his father proud, Sean declared:  
"In bed at eight tonight." Adrian tensed, but knew better than to answer back. "And set an alarm for seven before you go." There was no reaction from Adrian. "And you won't speak for the rest of the day - emergencies excepted. If you absolutely must communicate something, I anticipate you'll come up with a creative solution." Sean could practically feel the heat of anger rising from Adrian in response to this last command, but he ignored it. "Maybe a day of silence will help you remember to think twice before you speak out against the rules of Dothan."

Adrian did not answer, just held his position in silence. Without meaning to, he glanced up at the welting lash. Sean reached out to touch his carrier's head again.  
"I've told you your punishment, Adie. No lash today." the carrier exhaled his relief as quietly as he could, and Sean straightened his shoulders. "So get up."

Adrian stood, and Sean pulled him close to kiss his cheek. Adrian's face was still set in an incensed expression, and Sean imagined that keeping silent might be more of a challenge for Adrian than he'd anticipated. But his wife looked so beautiful, so enthralling when he knelt on the floor like that - so traditional, so trusting. Sean pulled him closer again to kiss Adrian's forehead.  
"Thank you for obeying me, Adrian."

Adrian felt his anger melt away a little at Sean's words, and for a moment he reveled in the praise, in the feeling of being wanted, and in the warmth of Sean's touch. Sean smiled at him.  
"Bye, you." he reached down and put one hand on Adrian's belly. "And bye you, too, Kiddo."  
Sean looked back up at Adrian.  
"I'll be home by seven. Help your stepmom make dinner, OK?"  
Adrian nodded, but didn't look at him.   
"Hey." Sean pulled his chin upwards to draw Adrian's gaze to him. "Hey. I love you."  
Adrian smiled wanly at Sean, and meant _I love you, too._

~:~

"Anders?" Caddy tiptoed barefoot down the stairs, calling his soon-to-be-stepbrother's name quietly. "Anders. Andy?"  
"Yeah?"

Anders appeared in the hallway from his father's study, dressed in sweatpants and a white t-shirt that stretched nicely over his chest. Caddy resolutely did not look more than twice at him. He had things to do this morning. He had to be good. He twirled one dark curl around his finger.

"So I was wondering something."  
Anders nodded.  
"OK. What's up, Cad?"  
Caddy shrugged and toyed with the fringe of his natori.  
"Nothing. Just....wondering. Tomorrow is picture day at the Centre."  
Anders nodded.  
"OK. Cool. You going to get your picture taken?"  
Caddy nodded.  
"Yeah. I'm supposed to." he picked idly at his clothes, then glanced up at Anders. "And - would you believe it - I got invited to get a look book done! And it's so awesome because it means I get pre-listed, which almost no one ever does, but this year twenty-three carriers got asked and I'm one of them! So I really want to do it, but..." - here, he sighed heavily - "...I dunno." The young carrier blinked up at Anders from under long, darkened lashes. "Look books are kind of expensive."  
Caddy conspicuously studied the wall. Anders raised an eyebrow.  
"You're not subtle, you know. If you want something, why don't you just ask your dad?"  
Caddy shrugged and frowned a little.  
"Um..."  
Anders made a gesture with his hand to indicate that he wanted something more substantial than that as an explanation. Caddy bit his lip, then exhaled.  
"Fine. It's just that...I don't think my dad has that much money left." Caddy crossed his ankles, then uncrossed them, looking distinctly uncomfortable. "I don't want to bother him."  
Anders thought about this, his expression distant.  
"Oh. Alright." he thought for a minute. "Caddy, you know you can always ask my dad for stuff, too, right? I mean, they are getting married. He's practically your dad, too."  
Caddy looked even more uncomfortable.  
"I know, I just...I don't know. I mean, the wedding's like, two days away, and they're both really busy with that, and getting the house ready, and... I just don't want your dad to think I'm some kind of...burden or a bother or something."  
Anders gave a wry grin.  
"But it's fine for me to think that, huh?"  
Caddy's eyes widened.  
"I didn't mean to - "  
"I'm kidding, Caddy."  
"Oh."  
Anders shifted his duffel bag to his opposite shoulder and rolled his neck to stretch it. Caddy's pupils dilated a little. Anders exhaled.  
"OK. Fine. How much is a...what was the thing again?"   
Caddy rolled his eyes in exasperation.  
"A look book. And it's 30 dollars."  
"Thirty dollars?! Union or Northern??"  
Caddy looked sheepish.  
"Northern."  
That settled Anders some, but not much.  
"Well. Still. Thirty dollars for pictures?!"  
Caddy looked indignant.  
"They're nice pictures."  
Anders nodded.  
"I bet. When do you need the money by?"  
Caddy looked to the side and kicked at the ground.  
"Today?" he asked, hopefully.  
"Today?!" Caddy's eyes widened again and he blinked up at Anders from beneath lowered lashes.  
"Sorry."  
"No, it's fine, just - here." Anders unzipped the duffel and began to dig around for his wallet. He opened it and handed three blue bills to Cadmus. Caddy practically squealed with joy and hugged his brother.  
"Thank you! Thank you soo much!"  
"Yeah, yeah. They just better be some damn good pictures."  
"Oh, don't worry." Caddy assured him. "They will be."  
Anders nodded and began to head down the hall.

Halfway to the door, he paused and turned back.  
"Wait, so why did you have to get _selected_ to take pictures? What is this, some kind of competition?"  
Caddy shook his head.  
"No, it's not, but it's just like - carriers who show they have potential in the next couple of years, they get to be in it. And Adrian - that's my peer group leader - he said I have really great potential, and so he nominated me for it, and I got it! So did Ashby."  
Anders frowned.  
"Well, congratulations. But this thing...it's for carriers who have great potential for...what?"  
Caddy shrugged.  
"To...be good carriers. To be pretty."  
Anders frowned, and turned back in the hall to face Caddy completely.  
"Wait. What? Caddy, who is this look book for?"  
Caddy kicked the ground.  
"Like, for officers who are looking for wives and stuff."  
Anders' eyebrows shot up.  
"So why do you need to be in it? You're not even 15!"  
Caddy exhaled and began to shift his weight from foot to foot.  
"I know, that's what I'm saying - I got pre-listed."  
Anders frowned.  
"Wait, so you go in this look book before you're even - Caddy, what kind of pictures are these??"  
Caddy tilted his head to the side.  
"They're just pictures, Andy."   
Anders shook his head.  
"That is not an answer."  
Caddy bit his lip.  
"They're like, normal...pictures. Just of me."  
Anders nodded.  
"Right. Give the cash back. This sounds sketchy and you're being sketchy about it."  
"No! Andy! Please, I - "  
"Cadmus." Caddy stopped for a second, because Anders sounded and looked so much like his father in that moment that it caught him off-guard. Anders stepped forward. "Give me the cash back. Now."  
Reluctantly, Caddy stepped forward and handed the money back to Anders.  
"This isn't fair."  
"I bet."  
Caddy didn't say anything else, but he looked so forlorn that Anders felt a little tug on his heart. He sighed.  
"I tell you what. You go to the Centre, get some legitimate information about what you want, bring it back to me, and if I think it's OK, I'll give you the money. No questions asked."  
Caddy brightened a little, but still looked down.  
"OK." he glanced up at Anders through lowered lashes. "Thanks, Anders."  
Anders grinned and stepped forward to envelop him in a hug. He ruffled Cadmus' hair with one hand.  
"Hey. It's fine. I just want to be sure you're safe, OK, kiddo? So...no sketchy pictures for use in the public domain." Anders grinned. "At least not without parental approval."

Caddy grinned up at him, suddenly feeling really warm and very, very appreciative. He squeezed Anders tighter.   
"What's going on here?"  
Anders shoved Caddy away guiltily and turned to stand at attention in front of his father.  
"Just talking to Cadmus, Dad."  
Caddy stepped up, twisting the edge of his natori nervously.  
"Henrik? I was - I was bummed about something that happened at school, that's all. Anders was just helping me." he glanced up at Anders, but the young man kept his eyes straight ahead, trained on his father. Henrik looked Cadmus over, then turned his attention to Anders.  
"Cadmus, the car is waiting. Go, or you're going to be late for school." Caddy hesitated, and Henrik turned his gaze back to him. "Cadmus." he said, simply, and Caddy glanced one last time at Anders, then walked past him and left. When they were alone, Henrik addressed Anders.  
"Is there anything you want to tell me?"  
Anders reddened, but shook his head.  
"No, sir. It was just a hug."  
"Cadmus is not of age - you're aware of that, I'm sure."  
Anders reddened even more, the flush beginning to darken his pretty brown skin.  
"Yes, sir. I'm aware."  
"And as long as he is in this house, he is under our care. You're aware, of that, as well, I'm sure."  
Anders nodded.  
"I am, sir. But Dad, I wasn't - " Henrik tilted his head in interest. Anders took a breath and spoke evenly. "It was just a hug, sir." he finished, firmly. Henrik looked his son squarely in the eye.  
"Let's be sure it stays that way."


	21. April 30: Sunday

Two days before the wedding, everything suddenly turned frantic. Henrik had invited the vast majority of the guests - colleagues, brothers, cousins, and men he knew from work - and they were all arriving at odd times to stay in the guest house and cabins farther out on the property. Phidias hadn't even known there was a guest house, and in light of that fact, he began to wonder just how little of the property he'd actually seen. Henrik had also made the majority of the requests, and Phidias had been left, with the assistance of the CEC wedding planner Henrik had hired, to carry out his plans.

Henrik had asked if there was anyone he'd like to invite, and Phidias had thought briefly of Emily's father - still alive somewhere, no doubt, because the man had been fierce and strong and Phidias believed he would have lived through anything. But then he thought of Emily and decided against the invitation. With her father here, it would be too much like having a witness to his betrayal - he might not have gone through with it. Caddy had nudged him, gently, into inviting a few of his colleagues from the Institute and so Dr. Alan Long would be in attendance, along with Evan and Smithy. Beyond that, Phidias' side of the guest list had been empty.

But then he'd gone for his last round of premarital counseling, and the Counselor had hinted that _he_ might like to come, and so might some of Phidias' friends. So Phidias had invited Sheridan and James and the Counselor, a total of six guests that became nine when husbands and fiancés were counted, and sixteen when Caddy begged to invite Adrian and his peer group.

Phidias hadn't done much to help plan the wedding with Emily, although in truth, there had been little to plan. They'd decided on a courthouse because he was meant to be getting a plane the very next day; they would have a ceremony on the beach when they arrived. In that distant country, there had been flowers, and Emily in a pretty white sundress she'd packed in a haste that still had wrinkles in it, and even a little altar she had convinced the local boys to build her out of spare wood. That had been all, and that had been enough.

This was different. Everything was different. Henrik had friends, plenty of them, it seemed, and they all were very curious to know just who had ended up wedded to their comrade at the end of the day. Phidias had spoken to a few of them on the phone - gravely voices and the sing-song lilt of trained carriers on the other end of the line. Sometimes he heard other languages in the background, and tried to guess in his head where the caller was from based on the sound of it. But then Henrik always came to the phone, all smiles and happiness and Phidias just got so swept up in watching him that he forgot all the little mysteries that came before.

Henrik had been an enigma in the past few days; gentle, friendly, mutable and eternally happy, but generally untalkative about anything Phidias considered to be important. When he'd asked Henrik questions about his friends, his family, anything he should know for the wedding, his fiancé had kissed his cheek and simply told him everything would be fine, then steered the conversation towards things like what they were going to name the baby and whether Phidias would like to have sex just now. Both were topics that Phidias reliably balked at, and so he would scamper off to do some imagined chore and Henrik would go on keeping his secrets.

Cadmus had been surprisingly well-behaved this week, relative to what Phidias had come to expect. He hadn't left the house without permission again, appeared to be going to classes (Phidias called to check up) and hadn't done anything else of offense to Henrik's rules or general standards of decency. He'd been relieved of classes a day early for the wedding, and was currently fast asleep upstairs, having stayed up half the night playing board games in the library with Mr. Paul and Anders.

Anders was also relieved of duties for this day as well as the next, but had roused himself today for an early morning swim with his father in the pool. Everyone was on their own until noon, when Henrik had insisted they convene for a family lunch, their last meal together before the wedding day. The evening, he'd reminded them all, would be an introductory dinner for Phidias - a chance for him to meet some of Henrik's friends and their wedding guests.

 

And so all of this meant that Phidias and the wedding planner were currently standing alone in the kitchen at 8:47 am, trying to figure out how best to use the morning.  
"The tents should be here in the next 30 minutes, and Mr. Paul will be at the front to direct those out to the back, right?"  
The wedding planner, an older carrier with dark hair speckled with grey pulled back into a neat bun, and a silver wedding ring on his hand, stared intently down at his journal.  
Phidias nodded his response and poured himself a glass of orange juice to take his morning pills with.   
"Right. Henrik doesn't want anyone coming through the house."  
Phidias popped three of the pills into his mouth and chased them with a swallow of juice. The wedding planner frowned up at him.  
"You have to eat before you take those. You're going to make yourself sick."  
Phidias half-grinned, trying to mask his irritation.  
"I ate some toast. I'll be fine."  
The wedding planner looked even more concerned.  
"You don't want to be sick while we're getting everything ready for your wedding."  
Phidias did his best to keep annoyance off of his face.  
"I'll eat more toast. I'm fine. Keep going - what's next?"  
The wedding planner crossed his arms over his chest and lifted his chin up a bit.  
"Well, I hope you won't take this cavalier attitude towards your health once you're carrying Mr. Angstrom's child."  
Phidias threw the glass, full force, against the wall above the sink. It shattered, and the wedding planner leapt backwards, gasping in shock. Phidias stared at the sink, then at the other carrier.  
"I said I'm fine. What's. Next."

~:~

The prospect of a trip away for the weekend seemed to have really lightened things inside the house. Sheridan seemed happier than usual, James was less annoying, Soyinka was more talkative, and even Harley appeared marginally less menacing than before. The invitation to Phidias and Henrik's wedding seemed to be a harbinger of good things to come. Harley had decided that a mini-vacation might do them all good, and had booked two rooms at a small bed-and-breakfast not far from Henrik's house. A brief thought flickered through Sheridan's mind about the last time he'd been with Harley at a bed-and-breakfast, but he buried it deeply and said he thought it would be fun instead.

James had had a doctor's appointment the previous morning to check on the baby, and the discussion of this at dinner had seemed to inspire Soyinka, who kept Sheridan in bed the rest of the evening, as well as far enough into the morning that he'd almost been late for duty.

He'd left Sheridan with a kiss and instructions to spend the rest of the day in bed. His husband stood at the end of their bed, quickly buttoning his shirt, then unbuttoning it when he realized he'd done it up wrong. This made Sheridan giggle, and Soyinka had feigned hurt feelings until Sher had scooted up to the edge of the bed and done it for him.

Aaron Soyinka had kissed him and said, "I don't care if the house is dirty when I come home, or the dishes haven't been done, or there's nothing hot to eat. I just want you to relax. All day. Promise?"

Sheridan had kissed him back and promised it would be so, but fifteen minutes after Soyinka had closed the door, he got up to help James mop the kitchen and tidy up the house to prepare for the weekend. Even if Soyinka wouldn't be angry, Harley sure as hell would.

~:~

Adrian had somehow been persuaded to take up the role of Acting Head of the Young Carriers program at Woodacre. Ren and June and a few of the other older carriers had lobbied the Elders for permission to start a school at Woodacre (there was certainly room for it, they argued) and had been successful. The program was currently rather small, as Woodacre only had so many carriers to begin with, but Ren and the other hoped that their small group would be parlayed into a full curriculum over the next four years, if all went well. Sean had joined June and Ren in pushing Adrian to help, thinking that it would give his wife a way to occupy his time while helping him reintegrate into the social life of Woodacre. Sean had sternly warned them all, however, that the minute the stress of school management work appeared to impact Adrian's health, he'd be right back to a restricted assignment.

All this had led Adrian to his current position: sitting in a corner of the library with Ren and June, going over lists of courses for the children in the autumn.   
"So geography, health, and Dothan studies are all essential. What about some sort of Union history?"  
"Essential." Ren said at the same time June said, "Leave it out."  
Adrian paused and looked between both of them. Ren looked over at June, who shrugged morosely.   
"What's the point of it, anyway? Can't change what's already happened. And the books they print aren't worth a lick, these days. They're all revised version of real events, aren't they?"  
Ren looked uncomfortable, but shrugged his accordance. Adrian wrote it down.  
"Language."  
"Arabic, they should learn. We can get someone here to teach it." June put in immediately.  
"Or Hebrew." June added. "Let them choose between the two."  
"Spanish?" Adrian suggested, but was met with immediate looks of distaste. "Or perhaps not." he looked back down at his notebook. "Some sort of science, maybe? Just a basic biology."

At this suggestion, June just looked horrified and turned to Ren, who leaned forward and gently put a hand on his stepson's knee.  
"Adrian. Sweetheart. I know you want the best for these kids. But try to remember the roles that you're teaching them. You want them to have an easier time than you had, not harder. Don't confuse them."  
Adrian's face flushed a little, and he scratched out what he had written.  
"OK. Fine Arts?"  
June pursed his lips.  
"Which type?"  
Adrian shrugged.  
"Drama."  
"Well," June looked to Ren for confirmation. "Painting's better. But I think they have time for both of those, and literature."   
Ren nodded and then squeezed his eyes shut, looking a little green. He reached forward and hastily swallowed some of the tea in the mug in front of him, then turned back to Adrian.  
"Herbalism." Ren took another long sip of the tea. "They need to learn herbalism."  
June cooed sympathetically and rubbed Ren's back. Adrian wrote this down and moved on down the list.  
"Home Management?"  
"Essential." both June and Ren answered in unison.

~:~

The rest of the morning had gone smoothly, then lunch had gone smoothly, and even the afternoon had gone smoothly. Henrik and Anders had spent their time together in the library, working on some project or the other, and Caddy had made himself surprisingly helpful as a sort of buffer between the wedding planner and his dad.

By five, the table had been set for dinner. Caddy had been given two choices: he could either stay, and be on his best behavior and in Henrik's sight at all times, or he could go back to the CEC for the evening. There would be no wandering the house while it was full of new guests. Caddy quickly assessed how boring he thought the evening would be, and decided to go back to the CEC and spend the night with his friends. His car had just left. Anders had decided to use the evening to busy himself with his own friends, and was downstairs packing a duffel bag in his room. That left Phidias just enough time and just empty enough of a house to take himself upstairs, bathe, and dress for dinner.

Henrik was waiting in their bedroom. He was sitting in the large, cream-colored chair by the window, his legs sprawled out and concentration focused on some small thing in his hands he was fiddling with. He glanced up briefly at Phidias' entrance.  
"Shower?"  
Phidias nodded. He needed a shower desperately - he felt tired, sweaty, and more than a little nervous about the introduction. Henrik watched him and read these emotions.  
"I'll come and join you."  
Phidias thought about protesting, but Henrik had this way of making suggestions that left no room for argument. And Phid was too tired to argue, anyway. Henrik looked back down at the small thing in his hands and began fiddling again. Phidias surmised he was dismissed.

~

In the master bathroom, the lights over the sink were already on, cutting the darkness enough for Phidias to see his way into the room and around the major appliances. Aching and ready for the relief of a hot shower, Phidias stepped tiredly out of his clothes and kicked them to the base of the hamper as he crossed the room. Henrik's bathroom, he sometimes reflected, was almost as big as his entire room at the CEC. He pulled his towel from where he'd left it on the rack and wrapped it around himself as he padded across the rugs and cold tile of the floor to turn on the shower.

The rush of the water was so welcome that Phidias thought he might cry. He wet his body first, then closed his eyes and dipped his head under the spray to let the heat soak through his hair. Presently, he heard the slide of the glass door opening and sensed Henrik's presence behind him. Phidias waited, but no touch was forthcoming; he opened his eyes and looked over one shoulder at Henrik, who was standing, arms crossed, leant against the wall of the shower. The half-light played across his body; his arms, made strong by years of swimming, and his belly, still flat for a man of his age, and his cock, hanging heavily between the thighs that Phidias remembered from experience as powerful. Phidias couldn't think of what to say.

"You're not getting wet." he said, and immediately felt stupid for it. Henrik grinned, wryly and shook his head.  
"Not yet. I am enjoying my view."  
Luckily, the hot water hid the fact that Phidias blushed down to his toes.  
"I'm almost done." he mumbled, reaching to turn off the flow. Henrik stepped forward and caught his hand.  
"No." he said, trailing his eyes across Phidias' face, "You're not."  
Phid's heart sped up, as it always did in these kinds of situations, and he tried to pull his hand back, but Henrik held firm. He tried to look up at his fiancé's face to judge the situation, but the water and the poor lighting obscured it. Breathing heavily, he looked back down to where their hands were joined.  
"What - what do you want?"  
Henrik held him fast for a long minute, then slid his hand down to join hands with Phidias. He took a sponge from the wall with his free hand and pressed it into Phidias' palm.  
"Wash me."  
Henrik released Phidias' hand and stepped back, just under the water flow, and Phidias exhaled a shaky breath. He felt stupid again, and intimidated, and weak, and stupid for feeling weak or intimidated, and -   
"Phidias."   
Phid looked up at Henrik. The older man was watching him again, and at first Phidias thought he was going to be scolded for his hesitation, for taking so long, not while they had guests coming, they couldn't stay in the shower forever, they had to -   
"Stop thinking." Henrik's voice was firm, but gentle. Phidias stared at the sponge in his hands. Henrik reached forward, through the water, and stroked Phidias' face. "Wash me."  
Phidias had intended just to turn away and soap the sponge, but Henrik must have seen some consternation, because he reached out and took Phidias' wrist again. "Phidias. I am your husband. I respect you. I find you beautiful. I am asking you to bathe me."

This time, the words worked and Phidias reached resolutely for the soap to lather the sponge, which he then dragged slowly across Henrik's chest. Henrik made something like a purr of encouragement, and Phidias, feeling emboldened, did his stomach next, then his cock, which had begun to firm, then his legs, at which point Henrik kissed him firmly and said gruffly that if he didn't finish the rest of it himself, they were both going to be late to dinner. Phidias handed over the sponge with a swiftness that made Henrik chuckle and excused himself from the shower.  
"I laid out something for you to wear." Henrik called after him. "I hope you like it."

~

Less than a half hour later, they both stood waiting and dressed downstairs for their first guest to arrive. Henrik wore black dress pants and a white shirt, open at the neck; Phidias wore the natori Henrik had picked out - it was a very long one, almost covering his ankles, dark maroon and adorned around the edges with a dancing gold pattern. Henrik had chosen a slim maroon top to go with it too, and around his neck, Phidias wore the necklace that Henrik had found and presented to him earlier.

The first pair of guests was composed of an officer who looked a little younger than Henrik, wearing a pair of loose linen pants and a flowing white shirt which contrasted starkly with his dark brown skin; he was accompanied by a carrier who Phidias assumed was his wife - a femme of about Phidias' age with pretty golden skin and long, jet-black hair which barely showed around the edges of the intricately embroidered headscarf he wore. The carrier's eyes were lined in black, and the hand he extended to Phidias was decorated with several gold rings. At the sight of the couple, Henrik lost all pretense of decorum and rushed forward.

"Anthony! And Mahir! My God, it's been so long; I had no idea you were going to make it! Where the hell did you get a plane?!"  
The man laughed and clapped Henrik firmly on the back.  
"What?! You thought we'd miss this?? It took us 6 days to get here, but of course we were going to make it. I called in a favor at the last minute."  
Henrik grinned and elbowed him.  
"Did you bring me wine?"  
Anthony stopped smiling and scowled at Henrik.  
"Angstrom. Why would you ask me something like that?" Phidias cocked his head, confused by the abrupt change of attitude. Anthony shook his head and grinned. "OF COURSE I brought you wine!" the men laughed until Anthony pulled back, looking over Henrik's shoulder to where Phidias had been left standing alone.  
"Is this him?" the femme carrier asked quietly, eyes boring deeply into Phidias' own.  
Phid suddenly felt incredibly self-conscious. He straightened his necklace awkwardly and glanced over at Henrik, who sensed his tension and stepped over to squeeze his fiancée's hand.  
"Yes. This is Dr. Phidias Alexander."  
The officer grinned at Phidias and bowed his head politely.  
"Nice to meet you, Dr. Alexander."  
"Dr. Angstrom soon, won't it be?" the carrier - Mahir, Phidias assumed - cut in with a smile. "I'm Dr. Mahir Duke, Anthony's wife." he indicated the other man with a wave of one hand over his shoulder. "I bet you're excited."  
Excited, Phidias felt, was not even the word for it.

Henrik interrupted that the bar would be getting cold without them and Anthony agreed that they had best hurry on in while the whiskey was still warm. Henrik politely greeted Mahir with a bow of the head and ushered them all into the house.

As soon as they entered, Henrik led Anthony into the library, where the lights were on and a small bar had been set up by the sitting area near the windows. Phidias began to follow, but Henrik stopped him with a kiss at the door.

"Why don't you show Mahir the rest of the house? We'll meet you both in the sitting room shortly - Mr. Paul has prepared a lovely amuse-bouche for everyone there, and I'm sure Mahir would enjoy a tour before dining."  
Phidias wasn't sure exactly how much of a tour he could reasonably give, seeing as he still didn't know half the house himself. But, feeling certain that this was Henrik's attempt to get him to bond with another carrier, he agreed. Men, from what he understood, sometimes wanted their wives to be friendly with each other. Phidias turned to Mahir.  
"If you'll follow me, Dr. Duke, I'll show you the house."

Phidias and Mahir wandered idly for a while, chatting politely before ending up in the sunroom, where Mr. Paul had presented a plate of little spinach pastries, diced chicken, and fruits; all accompanied by a newly-opened bottle of wine. After locating some glasses, Mahir poured himself a hefty drink before half filling Phidias' portion. Phidias raised an eyebrow, suddenly feeling awkward.  
"You're not..." he indicated Mahir's abdomen. The carrier laughed.  
"Pregnant? No." he took a long swig of his wine. "Not this week." he added, wryly, and Phidias would have thought he was serious were it not for the suspicious gleam of amusement in his eyes.  
"Oh. Me, um, me either."  
Mahir tilted his head.  
"I wouldn't guess you were. Henrik is far too proper for a shotgun wedding." Mahir laughed at his own joke, and Phidias couldn't help but notice that he had a bit of an accent to his words.  
"So you and Anthony came far? It took six days, you said?"  
Mahir swallowed more wine and nodded.  
"Yes. We had to fly from Al Kuwayt out of the country, then take a train to the coast through the Alliance, then from there another plane into the Union. It was very long. And Anthony does not like to wait that long between having me." Mahir grinned devilishly. "We've actually been here for three hours, but he wouldn't let me out of bed until it was almost dinnertime."  
Phidias was so taken with the new information that he barely even noticed the lewd joke.   
"Al Kuwayt...so you're from the Emirates?"  
Mahir inclined his head.  
"Born and bled."  
Phidias' imagination was captivated.  
"What's it like there?"  
Mahir smiled wistfully.  
"Beautiful. And hot. And beautiful." he looked down into his glass. "The Emirates have been extremely, extremely fortunate. And the firm has, as well."  
Phidias cocked his head.  
"The firm?"  
Mahir flicked his eyes up to examine Phidias' face.  
"I didn't say any firm."  
"What's 'the firm'?"  
Mahir shook his head.  
"You must have misheard me, Phidias. I'm sorry. I tend to mix my languages sometimes. Correct me if I do it again." Mahir looked down at Phidias' half-drunk glass. "More wine?"

~

Over the next forty-five minutes, they were joined by three other carriers - Denis, wife of Josef Barclay; Amin, wife of Cary Talbot; and Tyson, wife of Everett Kamal.

Denis was blonde and waif-like, with a round face and wide smile. He was happy, well-spoken, older than Phidias, and visibly pregnant. He arrived dressed in long pants and a loose, sleeveless shirt over which he had wrapped a shawl to keep off the April chill. Mahir fawned over the shawl while Phidias poured himself more wine and fetched Denis a glass of juice. Mahir had greeted Denis gently but excitedly, and Phidias understood the two had not been together in some time.

Amin was the next to youngest of the group, perhaps in his early thirties, and just as pregnant as Denis was. He, too, was slim and well-spoken, but his features were more pronounced than the others' - he had large, round eyes and a long, narrow nose which he appeared to be looking down each time he spoke to Phidias. But he was friendly enough, and dressed similarly to Mahir - with the exception of his hair being uncovered and his wrists adorned with what looked like a hundred gold bangles that jingled when he reached for bites of more food. Mahir seemed to regard this carrier with some mixture of caution and vague interest, and Phidias wondered about the coolness between them. Whatever the case, it appeared that Mahir was the acting hostess at the moment, as he took it upon himself to introduce everyone to Phidias and even helped them to spark up conversations.

Tyson, the youngest, was the last to arrive, and Phidias noted immediately that he bore a close resemblance to Anthony - they had the same button nose and doe eyes, the same cheeky smile, and the same general build. Tyson entered shyly, and Mahir got up and went to him, kissing his cheek and addressing him as brother, which Phidias took to mean his suspicions were confirmed. He, too, was dressed in a long natori and had his hair covered. Phidias offered him a glass of wine, which he demurred, making Mahir turn to him in surprise.  
"Ty? Is it - ?"  
Tyson put his head down, and Phidias guessed he was blushing, though it was hard to tell.  
"Think so." he answered quietly.  
Mahir nearly spilled his wine in the rush to hug his brother in law, and kissed the younger man's cheek repeatedly.  
"I'm an aunt! Does Everett know?!"  
Tyson shrugged a little half-shrug and nodded.  
"I told him this morning. Knew I'd never keep it secret once I was back with you two."  
Mahir beamed.  
"Oh, Ty, he must be so happy. When we get back to Wafra, your brother and I are going to throw you one _hell_ of a celebration."

Amin stood up to hug Tyson, as did Denis and then Phidias (wanting to fit in). Tyson grinned and rubbed his shoulder, clearly growing uncomfortable with all the attention. The poor carrier was spared, fortunately, by the opening of the door and the appearance of Henrik, who told them all it was time for dinner.

~

At the meal, each of the carriers sat next to their respective husbands and waited to be served. The conversation picked up, and Henrik seemed to be completely involved; Phidias just sat back and tried to catch up as everyone spoke over each other, sometimes in English and with some words in Arabic and a few in a language that he hadn't been able to identify but had placed in the Scandinavian family.

The first course came, then the second, and throughout the meal, Henrik sat enraptured, turning to Phidias occasionally, to translate or explain, and then digging his way back into the conversation to give opinion, share stories, joke or express shock at the happenings of life. Mahir inquired after Anders, and Henrik updated them all on his son's well-being, shifting the focus momentarily to children and, then, subsequently, wives. In a way, it was fascinating - Phidias had never seen Henrik so alive, so open and happy. He bantered with Everett, shared news with Cary and took teasing from Anthony and Josef about how his life was soon going to change.

"I'm surprised it took you this long." Josef commented.  
"I'm surprised he did it at all!" Mahir threw in and Henrik rolled his eyes as the table laughed. "But Phidias does seem to suit you, I guess - from what we know of him. He didn't talk much, Henrik. He's not at all like you." Mahir's eyes twinkled and more laughter erupted.   
As it quelled, Tyson, who had been the quietest of the group, turned to Phidias.  
"Well, why don't you tell us something about yourself, Dr. Alexander? Where did you grow up? Where do you come from?"  
Phidias took a sip of the water he'd switched to, for fear of getting a bit sloppy as the evening wore on.  
"New England." he said, clearing his throat. "I'm from New England, but I grew up on the flatlands - out in the midwest with my grandfather."  
Mahir tilted his head in interest.  
"He was a scholar, my grandfather, and he taught me everything I know." Phidias felt an emotion he was unfamiliar with appear suddenly, but he squashed it and went on. "At least, everything I know about history and literature. I went to school when I was 16, a private college. He didn't want me going into the government schools - no offense to any of you. It just...wasn't for me. Anyway, I traveled, I studied, and eventually, I took up anthropology. That was my passion, and I never looked back." he took another swallow of water. "And I have a son: Cadmus. He's 14." Around the table, everyone was making impressed noises and looking at him interestedly. Feeling a bit on the spot, Phidias decided to shift the focus.  
"So what about you all? What do you do?"  
As if a record had scratched, the room fell silent. After some exchanging of grins and glances, Mahir answered.  
"We are scientists, mostly, Phidias."  
"Also businessmen." Cary Talbot interjected. Mahir glanced at him with fleeting annoyance.  
"Yes," he acknowledged. "Scientists mostly, but also businessmen."

~

After dessert and the rest of the wine had finished, and the guests had all been escorted to their quarters, Henrik found Phidias in the kitchen, standing in silent awe of the sink overflowing with dishes. Henrik folded his arms over his chest, leaning against the doorway.  
"Leave them, Phidias." he said, reaching out one hand to his husband. Phidias didn't startle at the sound of his voice - this was an improvement over the early days, when his fiancée seemed highly attuned to his presence, yet eternally frightened of its appearance.   
"There's a lot to - "  
"Leave them, Phidias." Henrik let his voice drop into the realm of command. Phidias turned to look over his shoulder immediately. There was compulsion in Henrik's voice, but also something else, more familiar. Phidias had guessed that Henrik was waiting until their wedding night. Clearly, he'd guessed wrong. Henrik's voice gentled. "Come here."

Phidias turned and went, driven by what, he did not know. It could have been fatigue, or acceptance, or resignation, or desire, or the wine, or -   
"Phidias." Phid looked up at his soon-to-be husband's face. Henrik's pupils were dilated and his skin had a color to it. He placed on hand on Phidias' hip, urging him closer. "Come upstairs with me."  
Phidias felt his own skin begin to warm.  
"I, um, I - "  
Henrik craned his neck to nip at the junction of neck and shoulder.  
"Um?"  
"Um, don't want to go upstairs?"  
Henrik stepped forward so that he could put his hands more securely on Phidias and capture his mouth in a kiss. Flush against his lips, Henrik mumbled. "Then shall I have you right here? Our guests are gone." Phidias warmed even more, but had the good sense to recognize that locations chosen under the influence of heat and wine should always be rethought.  
"Upstairs." he answered. "I'll go."  
Henrik grinned, then frowned. He lifted one hand to draw a thumb over Phidias' lower lip.  
"I love you." he said suddenly, strongly. Phidias nodded.  
"I...love you, too." he answered, not knowing at all if Henrik had heard him, or believed.

~

Henrik was more careless after wine, Phidias noticed. The first penetration was more sudden than it had been the last time, and Phidias squirmed and clenched his fingers against Henrik's back as his fiancé rutted above him. Henrik's thrusts had a more haphazard nature to them this time - not the smooth, easy ride Phidias had had before. The second thrust went deep, Henrik forcing himself as far as he could go into Phidias before the younger man yelped and protested, pushing against his shoulder. He retreated then, and kissed Phidias, mumbling his name and a few words of endearment before sheathing himself fully again. Phidias felt his opening warming to the actions, the invading sensation; the feeling of fullness and rightness he'd noticed in their time before. It was strange, he thought, to feel this way from what they'd done - Henrik had been in a rush tonight, had not prepared him with fingers or mouth, and yet he was as wet as if Henrik had laved him with his tongue first.

Henrik gave another strong thrust, and Phidias felt a pleasure that teetered on the edge of pain but did not cross it - he savored it, and, wanting to encourage, kissed Henrik's shoulder.  
"Again."  
Henrik obliged, shifting his hips minutely to get the angle of the thrust just right, to get the depth just far enough in to make contact with the most sensitive spot inside of Phidias.  
Phidias groaned.  
"Again, please."  
Henrik smiled and pulled out so that just the head of his cock was still lodged inside of Phidias; then he thrust forward, powerful but restrained, and Phidias squeezed his shoulder, pulling him closer. After a moment, their rhythm picked up, Henrik perfecting then losing control of his thrusts and Phidias getting alternately closer to and farther from orgasming on his husband's cock.   
"God, Henrik, fuck, pleasefuckme, I'm so close...."   
Then Henrik came, suddenly, giving Phidias no warning, and the shock of the rush of wet heat inside of Phidias was enough to push him over the slippery edge of orgasm as well, and in seconds he was sliding out onto the plane of pure physical sensation.

Henrik groaned and Phidias cried out and stilled for a minute, reveling in his first cum from sex like this, while Henrik likewise shuddered the last droplets of his release, sheltering inside Phidias as he whispered foreign words and stroked his fiancée's skin. Phidias bit his lip and tried to soak up the last of the sensations which were quickly turning to discomfort as the afterglow faded. Henrik soothed him, holding his hips in place and not allowing him to move just yet.

After a moment, Henrik's cock must have become too sensitive, because he retreated, pulling out of Phidias with a slick sound and a rush of cool air between them. Phidias laid on his back for another minute before the desire to have a shower began to overtake him. He moved to roll over, but Henrik stopped him.  
"No...stay."  
Phidias shrugged off the hand.  
"I'll be right back."  
Henrik's grip returned, firmer this time.  
"No. Stay. On your back."

Understanding hit Phidias in a torrent of emotions and he swallowed them all, then laid down on his back so that Henrik's cum wouldn't leave him just yet. Henrik curled up to Phidias, clearing his hair away from his eyes, still stroking his skin and kissing his shoulder and telling him over and over again how he was perfect, and beautiful, and loved. Phidias kissed him back, then tried to convince himself that he was sleepy; at least then he wouldn't feel as if he had been trapped in this bed.


	22. May 1

Phidias woke up at half past eight to Caddy calling his name.

"Dad! Dad! DAAAAAAAAD!"

Phidias panicked first, the fear pulsing through his veins as it had that first day, but on waking further, his groggy mind decided that the tone of the shouting meant all was well enough - he could go back to sleep. Still half-unconscious, Phidias tried to cover his head with the pillow, but someone insistently tried to pull it away; Phidias pulled it back.

"Dad! You have to get up. **Get up**!"  
Phidias resolutely ignored this.  
"Dad! Get up. It's your _wedding day_."  
Phidias woke instantly, a ball of nerves welling up into his throat at Caddy's simple pronouncement. He lifted his head with the pillow on top if it and looked blearily out at the world. Henrik wasn't in the bed with him. Phidias glanced around. Henrik was not even the room. Phidias wondered where he had gone. Caddy must have read the question on his face, because he answered.  
"Henrik left to go get dressed. He can't see you until the wedding." Phidias blinked sleepily at his son. Caddy sighed. "It's bad luck."  
Phidias put his head back down and squeezed the pillow tightly over it.  
" **DAD**!"  
"I know!" he shouted back, muffled by the blankets. "I know! I'm coming. I'm up."

Phidias counted to ten, then shook the pillow off and sat up, remembering just in time that he was naked; he'd forgotten about last night. He covered himself discreetly with the duvet, but Caddy caught it quickly; his son glanced at him once, and then away, a slight grin turning up the edges of his mouth.

"Well, I'm going to go shower and stuff. Anders came home last night, and he made breakfast for everybody this morning, and the people are here with your clothes and mine and also to take all the pictures. And the carrier from the CEC who I don't like who did all the planning stuff is here, too. And some people I don't know. And some people I couldn't see too well because Henrik said I can't go downstairs. Which is stupid, because obviously I have to go downstairs at some point, and he's going to be mad. But Anders brought me my breakfast upstairs, which was cool; it was like breakfast in bed. With dessert. Oh, and Henrik got me a chaperone, because there's like a billion people around the house and he thinks I'm going to get raped."

Phidias blinked at his son. It was so early in the morning for Caddy's matter-of-fact weirdness.  
"OK. Great." he swallowed; his mouth tasted cottony. "Water. I need water."  
"OK. Should I tell Mahir to bring some in?"  
The night prior came rushing back to Phidias.  
"How do you know Mahir?"  
Caddy shrugged.  
"Met him this morning. Henrik said he's the only person allowed upstairs. He came to introduce himself. He wants to help you get dressed."  
Phidias nodded slowly, trying to make sense of all that Caddy had just said.  
"OK. Well, where is he now?"  
"In the study."  
"Up here or downstairs?"  
"Up here."  
"Oh."  
Phidias paused, letting questions roll around and form themselves into something utterable in his mind. Caddy appeared to be watching him closely.  
"You don't like him."  
"No!" Phidias replied, irrationally fearful of the accusation. "No, I just - I'm tired." Phidias tried to get his wits about him. "You woke me up." he added, pointedly. Caddy grinned a mischievous little grin.   
"Poor Dad. I bet you're tired, too. All worn out."  
Phidias tugged the duvet up his torso a little higher.  
"OK! Thank you, Cadmus. Now get out. I need to shower."  
"Awww. OK." Caddy faux-pouted as he clambered off the bed and made his way to the door. About to open it, he turned back. "Should I tell Mahir to come in, though?"

Phidias furrowed his brow. He could tell Mahir to wait in the study, but if he really was intent on helping Phidias dress, he'd be in the bedroom soon enough, anyway. And Phidias couldn't exactly refuse him - he was Henrik's friend. It was a matter of diplomacy.

"Um, send him in here, Caddy; it's fine. And ask someone to bring up some breakfast, _with_ water. And ask Mahir to get my clothes from the clothier downstairs, please."

Caddy nodded and gave his dad a miniature salute, then disappeared through the bedroom door.

~:~

"We need to pull over."  
Aaron Soyinka rolled his eyes and kept driving.  
"No, we don't. We need to get to the hotel and check in before the wedding."

Sheridan, who was riding in the front seat next to his husband, glanced tensely up at the rearview mirror. In the backseat, Harley had James' natori hiked up past his hips; the carrier was half-straddling his husband and being kissed fiercely on his lips and neck. Harley squeezed James' thigh with one hand, muttering something under his breath which made James's skin flush and his lip tremble. Sheridan thought he was going to be sick. Aaron's hand touched his.

"Are you alright? Do you need to stop?"  
The drive to Phidias's new husband's house was only an hour from their own, and it was just another half hour on to the bed-and-breakfast they'd picked, so Sheridan really wasn't sure what all this stopping was about. He shook his head.  
"I'm fine."   
_I'm not a child_ , he wanted to add, but he left it and took his hand away from Aaron's to fold it in his lap. Aaron quietly went back to driving, glancing once more into the rearview mirror before setting his sights squarely on the road.

~:~

"Hold still, or I won't be able to get it on you." Mahir scolded his young charge.

Enchanted, Caddy sat absolutely unmoving on the stool by the mirror in his father and Henrik's walk-in closet, which had recently been converted into a dressing room by the addition of a large vanity. Mahir dipped the brush in the black paint and drew it carefully across Cadmus' eye, outlining the bright hazel in black. Phidias, already dressed and painted up himself, was sitting in the chaise against the wall, watching the scene with a blank countenance. Mahir leaned close to inspect his work before setting on Cadmus' other eye.

Caddy smiled to himself - he liked this carrier; Mahir was kind, and funny...and pretty, but not in the overwhelming way of most of the femmes at the Centre. Instead, he was bold, and interesting, and when he leaned close to line Caddy's eyes, there was the faintest scent of brass and spices. Caddy found himself drawn to it.  
"There. All done."  
Caddy turned to inspect himself in the mirror.  
"Yay! Thank you, Mahir!" he squealed. The other man snuck a glance at Phidias, who was still staring blankly at his son.  
"Well." he said, turning to face the mirror beside Cadmus and smoothing the young carrier's hair down. "Don't get so excited you mess it up. Here, color your mouth."  
"No!" Phidias interrupted sharply, getting up to cross the room towards the pair. Caddy looked up, crestfallen.  
"Dad! You said I could."  
"I said something, and you got something - your eyes are done. And I said only for the wedding."  
Caddy looked so stricken that Phidias felt a pang of regret.  
"But it _is_ only for the wedding! And it's just two things! And it's just for a day, Dad."  
Phidias hesitated where he was, standing in half-movement by the wall of the dressing room, facing down his nearly-tearful carrier son. Out of the corner of his eye, he realized Mahir was watching him.  
"Caddy, no."

Caddy sucked in a breath, and Phidias knew it was the beginning of a pattern which would eventually descend into hysteria and tears. A mixture of emotions rose up in Phidias. He felt annoyed with Caddy for being so emotional, then felt irritated with himself for sparking the whole situation. He shouldn't have ever let Mahir in his room. Which was Henrik's fault in the first place, him and his stupid pressure, all just to keep Phidias from...anger was replaced by the stomach pangs of fear.

"But, Dad, you said I could! And it's only for one day!"   
Phidias's attention went back to his son. Caddy was making a poor attempt at appearing reasonable; his face was getting pink, and belatedly Phidias realized that his son might be feeling a twinge of embarrassment at being scolded publicly. Mahir was, after all, a guest, and for whatever reason, Cadmus seemed to like him. The fourteen year old continued.   
"Dad, I just -" Caddy took in a deep breath and blew it out, unsettling the hair that curled past his eyes. "I just want to look like a carrier today. An actual carrier - not so boy. That's it, Dad. That's all I want to do."  
Mahir still didn't speak; only watched, and waited. Phidias stared at his son for another moment. Caddy stared at him back, then spoke softly.  
"I'm not a little kid anymore, Dad."

Phidias stared at his son. With his eyes ringed in black, Caddy reminded him of the fashionable femme carriers he had seen at the Centre, but that voice...the voice was all Emily. Phidias felt a pang. She was here; even today, she was here. He shook the image from his mind and there again was Cadmus, his son, his little boy who had fallen and scraped his knee at the tender age of 4 and - shock to all - hadn't cried, had just gotten up and sucked in breaths for a minute, then turned the opposite way and run towards something else. Cadmus who had discovered an insatiable desire for carrot sticks at age 7 and an unquenchable thirst for Jules Verne at age 11. Cadmus who now was Caddy: 14 and curious, silly, and sometimes clever; long-legged and with a sudden interest in horses and seemingly less like his father every day.  
Phidias shook his head.  
"Fine. OK. It's, um, it's fine. It's just for one day, though, Caddy." he added, warningly. Caddy beamed at his father.  
"One day. Today. I promise."

~

The ceremony was short and simple: a priest, an altar, Phidias and Henrik stood up at the front. Chairs were set up on the grounds behind the house, under pretty cream tents that billowed in the May breeze. Anders, Cadmus, Mr. Paul, Dr. Alan Long, and the men from the firm sat in the front row. The firm's carrier wives, along with Adrian, Sheridan, James and their husbands filled the rows behind them. Towards the back were the counselor and his - husband? date? - as well as Cadmus' friends. At the very back were other guests Henrik had invited - mostly officers, and Phidias had been too shy and preoccupied and uncomfortable to take much notice of their faces or names.

Phidias and Henrik faced the priest. Phidias barely listened; was too busy wondering what the crowd was thinking behind him, whether Caddy was fidgeting in his seat, where he'd left his glasses, and whether or not he still had a chance to get out of this. The vows, however, required his attention. Henrik squeezed his hand. The wind rustled the top of the tent and blew the cords that dangled from around the priest's waist. Love, honor, obey. Henrik put the ring onto his hand. He did the same. Love, honor obey. Henrik kissed him. It was all very simple.

~

The reception was held in the renovated old barn that had overlooked the pasture from a small knoll. The guests, almost a hundred in all, milled around beneath the lights that sparkled in the barn's rafters; a quartet played by one of the big bay windows, and tables laden with food and fine silverware lined one end of the room. Phidias followed around after Henrik, led by the hand from table to table. Every few minutes, he checked on Cadmus, but his son remained steadfastly seated at the table between his stepbrother and Mahir. Whether his suddenly sedentary nature was due to Henrik's edict or Mahir's attention, Phidias wasn't sure. His attention was called back to the present; his husband was tapping his hand.

"Phidias. Darling. I would like you to meet a colleague of mine." Henrik gestured to the man currently getting up from his chair to greet them. "Officer Ivan Kosin."  
Phidias couldn't stop himself from recoiling; instinct told him to run, hide, get far away from this man. He looked around in a panic for Caddy, and Henrik, shocked, put both hands on his wife's shoulders and tried to calm him.  
"Phidias? Phidias, what's wrong?!"  
Behind Henrik's back, Kosin smiled. Phidias couldn't speak.  
"I - I didn't - I'm sorry - I - nothing."   
His voice wasn't even steady. Henrik stared at him in disbelief. Phidias' heart pounded - he wanted to tell it all, describe to Henrik in every blistering detail what had happened the day he'd been called into Kosin's clutches. Anger was welling up inside of him, churning his stomach and making him want to jump on Kosin and beat him as thoroughly and publicly as he had done Phidias. Tempering the anger was fear - abject fear that Caddy was here, and Dr. Long, and too many people who were at too much risk from Kosin's hand. Then there was guilt, too - Henrik had wanted today to go so well, and the worst thing Phidias could possibly do was start a fistfight in polite society. Chasing that thought was a cynical one that at least they were married now, and so it wasn't as if Henrik could get rid of him so easily.

Phidias chewed his lip, closed his eyes, and tried to settle the rocking ship of his thoughts into something coherent and manageable enough to get him away from this moment. In private, he could tell Henrik what had happened - or some part of it - and ask him to kindly remove Kosin from their party. And, indeed, their lives.   
Then a thought struck him: colleague. Henrik had called him a colleague. What was that supposed to mean? What business did Henrik have with a man like Ivan Kosin? What did they do together? A penetrating fear slithered into Phidias. Were these two men friends? The thought lingered for a moment before good sense fought it down - if they were friends, Henrik would have said that. Henrik was direct. Henrik spoke his mind and didn't disguise. Henrik was still watching him, great concern etched into his face. Phidias swallowed thickly and was thankful he hadn't eaten yet. His husband touched his face, now, deep worry and something unrecognizable written in his eyes.

"Phidias." he said, simply, and Phidias took Henrik's strong hands in his own and drew them down from his face.  
"I'm fine. Honestly. I'm sorry, I just - " he glanced at Kosin, who was boredly examining the tablecloth, " I just thought I saw someone I knew."   
Henrik gave him a look which assured him that further discussion would be had about this later and turned diplomatically back to Kosin.   
"Officer. My wife, Dr. Phidias Alexander."  
Kosin extended his palm, and Phidias hesitated before taking it. It was the same palm that had held him down, rained blows, burned his skin...  
"Pleasure to meet you, Phidias."  
Kosin politely inclined his head. Phidias swallowed and nodded.  
"Likewise."  
Henrik tilted his head slightly.  
"Officer Kosin works with carriers at a variety of CECs around the country."  
Kosin took a leisurely sip of his champagne.   
"I most certainly do."

Phidias had thought he could handle it, he really had. But now he found himself going into a submissive defense: he wouldn't look at Kosin, wouldn't look up, and couldn't seem to let go of the death grip he had on his husband's hand. He sent up a prayer for something, anything to get him away from this man and this moment and this whole situation.

Suddenly, awfully, Cadmus came. He appeared like a vision, hair done up and eyes rimmed with black and mouth bright and reddened, at his father's elbow, and Phidias was confronted for the first time with the uncomfortable awareness of just how much his son had grown up.  
"Dad?"  
Henrik turned, smiling to acknowledge his stepson's arrival.   
"Ah. Cadmus. Come, meet our guest."

Phidias wanted to dive between them and scream for it all to stop. But Henrik was still holding his hand, and Caddy was looking so eager to be introduced like an adult, and the guests were all around, and Phidias felt he really couldn't do anything to stop what had already happened. So instead, he stood mute and pale, suffering the indignity in silence. None of this was what he wanted. He didn't want Kosin to know Caddy; he didn't even want him to be sure what Cadmus looked like. He didn't want them to speak. He didn't want them to shake hands. Phidias wanted to keep Kosin and Caddy on opposite sides of the world, and he definitely didn't want Henrik to stand there, all oblivious and smiling nicely and introducing them - he felt sick again. Henrik glanced at him strangely. Kosin was extending his hand to Cadmus.   
"Ivan Kosin."  
Caddy glanced at Henrik, then answered with his own.  
"Cadmus Alexander-Angstrom." Caddy gave a dignified incline of his head, a mannerism he had no doubt begun to copy from Henrik. "But you can call me Caddy. Everybody does."  
Henrik raised an eyebrow.  
"Not everybody, Cadmus." he said, pointedly, but Caddy just shrugged and beamed at Kosin. Phidias wondered what was in the glass his son was drinking. Kosin shook Caddy's hand gently, and shifted his stance to a more casual contrapposto, a vague smile creeping across his face.  
"Nice to meet you, Cadmus. You take after your father, I see."

Phidias felt sick. He shouldn't have let Caddy wear a natori - Kosin could see his legs, and his hips and his waist where it was outlined by his clothes. He shouldn't have let him come to the party. He should have kept him safe, kept him hidden...he couldn't stand seeing Kosin's eyes on his son.

Caddy grinned at Kosin and threw a glance over his shoulder at Phidias, then Henrik.  
"Which one?" he joked, and Kosin smiled wryly.  
"And you seem to have inherited Phidias' cheekiness, as well."  
Caddy unwittingly accepted this as a compliment. Henrik glanced a question at Phidias, who was busy trying to keep his heart from bursting. All at once, it did and he spoke.  
" **Doctor** Alexander." he burst in, voice strained. Kosin looked over at him, a bemused expression on his face. Clearing his throat, Phidias glanced at Henrik, who had on an expression of wonder at just what had gotten into his wife, and repeated himself to Kosin. "It's Dr. Alexander, actually. Not 'Phidias.'"  
Kosin's smooth mask of civility flickered for just a half a second and Phidias thought he saw something there - something inhuman that flicked its tongue and slitted its eyes before Kosin concealed it again. He stared at Phidias, then looked at Henrik.   
"Then shouldn't it be Dr. Angstrom?"

This was a topic that had not yet been discussed, and the group was muffled by the awkward silence surrounding Kosin's question. Caddy, insouciant as ever, tried and failed to conceal a giggle. Henrik turned to him, breaking the tension.  
"Cadmus. I believe Officer Kosin's drink has nearly run out. Why don't you bring him another?"  
Caddy, who had gotten much better at reading dismissal and had also been made more complacent by the wine that Phidias could now smell on him, shrugged, smiled once more at Kosin, and disappeared into the crowd. Immediately, Kosin turned his attention to Henrik, calmly twirling his half-full champagne glass between his fingers. The champagne bubbled against the sides; a drop slipped over the edge and spilt down the side of the glass.  
"Beautiful carrier you have. Is he 15?"  
Henrik answered honestly, without blinking.  
"In December."

More things he didn't want Kosin to know. Why would he ask? There was only one reason why he would ask. Phidias felt his heart collapse in on itself, but he willed himself not to die on the spot. If he did, then there truly would be no one to protect Cadmus. Although it didn't look as though Henrik planned to do much of a job...at least he could change that - couldn't he? He would talk to Henrik, that's what he would do. He would talk to him and tell him that things had to be different, that he couldn't let Kosin even think about Cadmus, that his son was sacred, that Phidias would kill for him, that -

"Unfortunately, Cadmus has already been contracted for marriage."  
Phidias' blood ran cold, and the nausea he'd been feeling since Kosin had first spoken to him was threatening to overwhelm. Now the man at his side was a stranger, and his son was chattel. Phidias began to feel light-headed. He looked at Henrik, took in his face, and for the first time felt doubt in himself and faith in his husband. Henrik's expression was as calm as it had been before, but Phidias spotted the lines of tension around his mouth, the too-tense set of his jaw - Henrik was trying to keep an even face. Henrik was lying. At his side, he squeezed Phidias' hand. Phidias understood.  
"Yes. It was made almost a month ago, at the time of our engagement." Phidias added, wanting to give veracity and weight to his husband's claim. Kosin threw a nasty glance at him, now reserving all his civility for Henrik.  
"Pity. If things do fall through..."  
"I'll be sure to keep you in mind." the lines in Henrik's face were getting deeper. He turned his attention to Phidias.  
"Are you sure you're feeling well? You look pale, sweetheart."  
Phidias nodded.  
"Just finding this a bit...tiring." he answered innocently, looking directly at Kosin. Kosin's eyes narrowed. Henrik nodded firmly.  
"Just a few more greetings, then we'll sit and you'll eat." he declared. Then, turning to Kosin, "You'll forgive us, Officer. So many guests at the party, aren't there. You understand."  
Phidias took some amusement from the fact that every question Henrik asked Kosin came out as a command. On Kosin's face, the blank mask had been slipped on again; his expression was unreadable. He nodded and bowed slightly.  
"Certainly. Great speaking with you again, Mr. Angstrom." he turned slightly to Phidias, "Phidias." Phidias sneered at him, but Henrik missed it as he shook Kosin's hand and steered his wife away. "Oh - Phidias," Kosin threw out as they were departing, "I believe Cadmus still owes me a glass of champagne. If you see him, you will send him my way, won't you?"

Only Henrik's strong hands on Phidias' arms kept him from lunging at Kosin. Firmly, his husband pulled him off, into the crowd.

Away from Kosin, Phidias felt grounded again. Landed; able to breathe. The surreal, twisting feeling that he'd been in some horrible waking dream was gone. He was awake, and he was safe. Phidias sucked in air and squeezed tight on Henrik's hand. Henrik was even more worried now; his face showed no attempt to disguise this.  
"What's going on, Phidias? Are you alright? Do you know that man - Kosin? Did he hurt you?"  
Phidias shook his head; slow down, his eyes pleaded. Henrik acquiesced and settled. Phidias calmed himself.  
"I'm fine. Fine. I know Kosin, but it's not - can I tell you that much later?"  
Henrik nodded curtly.  
"I just want to be sure that you are alright."  
Phidias offered him his best half-grin and nodded.  
"I assure you I'll be fine." he furrowed his brow. "Thanks for covering for Cadmus, though."

Henrik blinked at him. A terrible thought flipped around in the pit of Phidias' stomach.  
"You were covering, right? There's no contract on him. Right?"  
Henrik blinked again and glanced to the side.  
"There have been offers."  
And he had considered them. That's what that meant. That's why he'd answered this way, instead of just with a simple yes or no, or even an "of course not." Phidias suddenly, absurdly decided that his parents should have named him Sisyphus instead. Given the inevitable tragedy of his life, and the unending frustration and apparent futility in trying to protect Cadmus, it seemed more fitting.  
"What is that supposed to mean?"  
enrik sighed and glanced around. People were beckoning to them at various distances - everyone wanted to greet the bride and groom. He looked back to Phidias.  
"There have been offers." he repeated. "Some of them very good. I had hoped we could talk about this later."  
Phidias felt self-conscious suddenly; he glanced around.  
"I don't want that for Cadmus."  
Henrik inclined his head.  
"I understand. But there are certain realities to the world that we live in, Phidias."  
Phidias stared at his husband; Henrik's eyes seemed inscrutable, and Phidias' head felt swimmy. He acquiesced.  
"Fine. Later."  
Henrik nodded and showed Phidias his appreciation with a kiss to his cheek. Before he could lead them off in one direction or the other, however, a panicked-looking Anders came running up to the pair.  
"Dad! Phidias! I can't find Caddy."

~

What was wrong with the fucking chaperones? This was the thought that pounded through Henrik's head again and again and again. He thought of who was at fault - himself, Phidias, Anders, and the fucking chaperones. Henrik smiled at a guest; they knew nothing so far, and he didn't want to alarm anyone. Besides, wholesale panic would only decrease the likelihood that Cadmus would be found. Across the room, Anthony was prowling the perimeter. He locked eyes with Henrik and grimly shook his head. Mahir and Phidias returned from upstairs. Phidias looked awful, and waves of guilt rushed through Henrik like fire.   
What if it were his son? What if it had been Anders?   
Only it wouldn't have been, and wouldn't ever be. Henrik had seen to that. He disappeared down the hallway that led to the tack room and back door. Nothing. What if Cadmus had been taken out of the building? Worry seized Henrik's throat. Maybe he should census the guests. Who was here? Who was missing? He knew the answer already. Kosin. Had to be. The only authority the chaperones would have recognized. A CEC special officer.

Henrik berated himself: He should have known. Should have read Phidias' reaction and _known_. Should have thought of it. Should have taken care of Caddy. Henrik passed a series of closets and checked every one. Nothing. Then a sound - so muffled it was almost silent. He froze. For long minutes, he stood in the semi-dark, in a back hallway with guests dancing off in the distance, in the middle of his own wedding party. But there had been a sound. Henrik's heart pounded. The hall remained quiet. Eventually, he decided to move. But then there it was, again.

Now he knew, and rage was within him. He looked upwards, checked all perimeters. Only one place the sound could be. He'd checked all the closets. Henrik went to the tiny bathroom that was hidden off to one side, between two tack lockers, tucked into a corner. He threw open the door.

Officer Ivan Kosin had both of Cadmus' hands in his left grip, his right hand covering the boy's mouth and wrenching his neck to the side. His thigh was between Caddy's legs. Surprised at the intrusion, Kosin's grip weakened momentarily, and Caddy leapt backwards, away from the touch. There was a second of broiling silence, and Henrik heard clearly Caddy's terrified, ragged breath.  
"Cadmus. Get out. Find Anders. Go to the house. Upstairs. And close your door."  
Tearfully, Caddy nodded and, for once, obeyed his stepfather without hesitation.

Caddy ran out, and Henrik and Kosin listened to the distant sounds of Mahir greeting him with relief as he appeared. Then just the two men stood in the staggering silence, facing each other down across the narrow, now-lit space. Finally, Henrik spoke.  
"Monster."  
Kosin laughed.  
"Me?" he demanded, stepping forward. " _Me_?"  
Henrik, without hesitation, punched him cleanly in the gut. Kosin coughed for a few minutes, trying to suck back in his breath. After he'd recovered enough to speak, he looked up, still grinning, at Henrik.  
"You're twice the monster I am." he gasped out. Henrik narrowed his eyes.  
"Cadmus," he answered, with a calm so pure it was terrifying, "will be the last carrier you touch."

Kosin stared at him for a moment, confused, until the meaning of what he'd said began to sink in. He had just begun to comprehend when he felt it - the stab, the pinch, the little tingle of The Phantom...Kosin's mouth made an O of protest just before the needle was withdrawn. Henrik calmly capped the syringe and tucked it back into his jacket pocket. Kosin shook his head, still staring at Henrik's hand.

"No...you didn't....I - _fuck_...I... **no**!..." he began clawing viciously at his shoulder, at the place where the needle had been, trying to stop it, make it go out, keep the liquid from reaching his blood. It was too late by far. But Kosin grabbed at himself anyway, panicked; he was a beast in that moment, an animal caught in an inescapable trap. Henrik watched, smiling slowly as understanding came over the man crouched in front of him.  
"That was for Cadmus. And Phidias, too."  
Kosin was gasping for air again. Henrik stared down at him, unmoved.  
"I suggest you make your arrangements."


	23. May 2

It was after midnight, but upstairs in his room, Caddy still lay shivering in the dim light of his bedside lamp, limbs wrapped as tightly as he could manage around his stepbrother. In the tangle of arms and legs, Anders shushed him and smoothed his fingers through the curls of hair, working out a tangle here and there. Holding him this close, he noticed for the first time how similar he and Caddy were in some ways - the golden tone of their skin, the curl of their hair, the brightness of their eyes. So different from their fathers. In the low light, it was difficult to distinguish where his arm ended and Caddy's began. They were almost beautiful, Anders thought idly, lying there intertwined. He shook the thought from his head.

"Come on now, Caddy. It's alright. He's gone."

Caddy just shook his head, because how could he explain to Anders that it wasn't Kosin, it was everything - the tremendous fear, and the anger with no outlet, and the lack of independence, and the inevitable truth that someday there would be a Kosin who no one would stop, and the simple heartbreaking reality that he couldn't stay a child forever. The agony of the idea that he only had one shot; just one chance and that was it. And it could all be gone so quickly...

Anders sighed; not a sigh of impatience, but of worry, and stroked his head.  
"Do you want to talk about it more?"  
They had already talked it to death. Caddy shook his head and laid against Anders' chest.  
"Just don't leave, OK?"  
Anders hesitated - his father might come in and see him, and then that would be the end of trusting him in the house.   
Caddy fisted his hand in Ander's dress shirt, wrinkling it.  
"I don't care if your dad comes in. I don't care if my dad does. It's not that big of a deal; nothing's going on. I'm just...scared and I don't want to sleep in the dark and so just please don't leave me, OK?"

Sometimes it was like Caddy could read his mind. Anders looked down - Cadmus was looking up at him, so innocently, so beseechingly, and his eyes were so wide and still frightened...how could he leave him?  
"OK, Caddy. I'll stay." Caddy exhaled his relief. Anders nodded and patted his head. "I'll stay."

Then, impulsively, stupidly but quixotically, he kissed Caddy's hair. Cadmus froze for a moment - not even a second, but long enough for Anders' heart to drop, and then he practically purred his contentment and settled down against Anders' chest to sleep. After a moment, Anders leaned over to shut off the lamp beside them, so that he could lie in the dark and wonder what the hell he had done that for.

~:~

The party had gone on till midnight. Henrik, not wanting to upset his guest or bring undue embarrassment to Caddy, had allowed this. Kosin was suitably removed, from their party and their lives, and there was no sense in ruining their wedding evening for a madman who had no sense of propriety.

Now it was after one, and the remaining guests - those staying at the house - were still milling around, unbuttoning their shirt collars and finishing off bottles of champagne in honor of Phidias and Henrik.

Phidias was sitting on the sofa in the sunroom beside Mahir, who was reclining with a glass of water. All the furniture had been shifted to encircle the round fire pit, and the little fire in it burned hotly, warming them all. Anthony sat in the chair next to Mahir's end of the couch, his tie undone and shirt only half-buttoned; he looked close to dozing. Tyson's husband Everett had insisted that he needed rest for the baby, and had hustled them both off to bed, despite Ty's protests, hours beforehand. Amin and Denis and their husbands had gone as well. That left just the five of them - Phidias, Henrik, Mr. Paul, Anthony and Mahir.

The men were deeply engaged in conversation over some little happenings of the reception - who had met who, who had slighted who, and so forth. At intervals, Henrik would glance over at Phidias and sort of smile slightly, then delve back into the conversation. At one point, their voices lowered and Henrik moved closer around to the other side of the fire pit so as to be heard only by Anthony and Mr. Paul. Phidias could only guess he was speaking about Kosin. Mahir suddenly moved, repositioning himself so that he reclined against Phidias, his arm falling easily around his new friend's waist. Grinning, he leaned over to whisper in Phid's ear, twining his hand through Phidias' hair where it had been let loose.

You need to get out of here. Your husband can barely control himself, he's so eager for you."  
Phidias' eyes widened in surprise, and he jerked his head away.  
"What?!"  
Mahir laughed and guided Phidias' closer.  
"See how he keeps looking over here? He can't keep his eyes off of you. He wants you, and for good reason - it's your wedding night!"  
Phidias swallowed and reached for his own glass of water, which had been sitting on the end table.  
"He's talking to Tony and Paul."  
Mahir rolled his eyes.  
"So? Get up and say you're going to bed. I'm sure he'll take the hint."  
Phidias reddened.  
"I can't do that."  
Mahir scoffed.  
"Virgin." Phidias rolled his eyes. "Let a pro show you how it's done."

Mahir lolled his head back, exposing his neck, and slid a long look over at his own husband.   
"Tony?" he entreated, "I'm tired." Dragging out the r until it was practically a purr, Mahir blinked dark eyes at Anthony. Across the fire pit, the man smiled wolfishly and got to his feet, then turned a conspiratorial smile on Henrik and Mr. Paul.  
"I'm afraid it's past our bedtime. We'll see you all in the morning."  
Mr. Paul stood as well, giving Anthony a brisk nod.  
"Ten o'clock. See you then."  
Tony went immediately over to Mahir's side, and the two departed as Mr. Paul began to collect the glasses and flatware for the kitchen staff. When he had finished this task, he paused and nodded his head.  
"Mr. Angstrom; Dr. Angstrom. 'Til the morning."  
Then he was gone.   
He and Henrik were alone.

In the light of the fire, his husband's eyes were dark, but it was apparent where his attention lay. Abruptly, Phidias became aware of his own groin, of the growing heat there. Embarrassed, he looked away, let his hair fall into his eyes. Henrik fingered the scotch glass in his hand.  
"Shall we go?"  
Phidias took another swallow of his water and wished he'd drunk more water and less champagne all night. Then he got up and reached for Henrik's hand.

~

Their bedroom was dark, and cool. Inside, Phidias tried to spin away from Henrik's touch, but Henrik shook his head and held fast to Phidias' hand, drawing him closer for a kiss. When they broke, Henrik brought both his hands up to grasp Phidias' face, tilting their foreheads closer to meet. His cufflinks were gone by then, and the sleeves of his shirt hung free around his wrists. The planes of his face, viewed up this close, were beautiful. His breath smelled vaguely of scotch, and sweetness.

"Go to the bed."  
Every thought that was in Phidias' head now centered around the irresistible and unexpected depth of his arousal. He nodded, numbly, and turned to walk towards the bed. Henrik's voice deepened.  
"Faster."

Phidias glanced over his shoulder, quizzically, but quickened his pace. On the way, he began to pull at the hem of his shirt, preparing to lift it over his head. Henrik, who had arrived silently behind him, slapped Phidias lightly on the ass. Startled, Phid glanced over his shoulder at him.

"I didn't tell you to undress yet."

The game was beginning to make sense to Phidias, and heat surged to his groin; he began to feel the novel wetness that accompanied his arousal. Somewhere, some part of him wondered if this was really a game at all, but its voice was muted by the champagne and anticipation and the lingering frissons of fear from Caddy's earlier attack. Henrik was removing his own shirt now, and Phidias let his eyes follow his husband's hands. Henrik spared a glance up at him.

"Put your hands on the bed."

Phidias did as he was told, and in a half a moment, Henrik was pressed up behind him, one hand pushing his natori up to his waist, the other forcing its way up between his legs - a knee began to separate Phidias' thighs and fingers dragged along his cunt, over the dampening cloth that barely covered him. Henrik pushed the thin fabric aside and plunged one finger directly into him. Phidias tensed and made a noise of complaint and tried to wrench away, but Henrik held him fast and pressed in further.

"Hush. Be still."  
Phid was wriggling uncomfortably, but Henrik didn't move, just stayed where he was and let his bride calm down. After a minute, Phidias stopped moving, but then half-turned to protest.  
"I - I don't - can we just - "  
Henrik pressed a second finger into him and kissed the side of his neck.  
"Hush."

Phidias bit his lip and just tried to breathe and to focus on the sensations. Positive sensations, the counselor had told him. Don't dwell on the uncomfortable. His excitement was coming in peaks - rising, rapidly, then falling. But this was OK...this was good. There was the delicious sensuality of being touched, being invaded so intimately...and then the rise and fall of arousal, the slickening of his body in preparation and the tight grasp it had on Henrik's hand...the ragged breaths Henrik was drawing and the prominence of his erection against Phidias' ass. Gently, Henrik began to move his fingers, sliding them in and out slowly, sometimes with more force than others. Oversensitized, Phidias went onto his tiptoes to regain some control. Henrik put a heavy hand on his shoulder, pulling him back into place, and Phidias felt his body jolt and shivered a little.

"Can we...go...now?"  
Henrik shook his head.  
"Wait."  
Phidias made a noise somewhere between a groan and a whine of complaint. Henrik splayed his other hand over Phidias' hip and traced circles with his thumb, pressing forward against Phidias more strongly, rubbing himself against him. Phidias began to feel a little light-headed.  
"Can you...please?"  
Henrik nuzzled the junction of his shoulder.  
"Please what?"  
" _Please_ fuck me? Please?" there was a pause, just long enough for Henrik to savor victory. But Phidias couldn't resist adding a command of his own. "Now, please."

Behind him, Henrik grinned; the hand disappeared from Phidias' hip first, and then, abruptly, Henrik's fingers were removed, and his hand withdrew from between Phidias' thighs. Phid had just enough time to wonder what he was doing before Henrik spoke.

"Get on the bed. On your back." Henrik's voice was rough with arousal, and Phidias glanced over his shoulder again to get a glimpse of his husband's dark eyes before he did as he was told.

He positioned himself, legs spread, for Henrik, but his husband did not join him - instead, he wandered around the bed, as if taking a moment to admire his prize. Embarrassed, even in the dark, Phidias made a move as if to cover himself, but Henrik slapped the bedpost and growled out a "No."   
Phidias was riding high now, on a giddy cloud of arousal and fascination, and tried to look again at Henrik's face, but his husband's attention was engaged in undressing himself, and so Phidias watched him do that instead. Naked, Henrik somehow looked more powerful - he approached the bed with purpose, going directly to Phidias, reaching for his wife's natori, unwrapping it with both hands and casting it off to the side. Underwear came next, and then his shirt, and then Phidias was exposed completely to his husband's gaze.

Henrik stared at him for a moment, a starving man deciding where to begin at a feast, and then he was on him, kneeing his legs even farther apart, and Phidias found himself pinned under his husband's weight. Then Henrik was guiding himself into Phidias, and there was the same stretch as before - the tightness that skittered just across the threshold into pain and then returned to the realm of pleasure. Henrik pushed past the initial resistance and sheathed himself fully, shoulders shaking with the effort of waiting so long.   
Buried well inside of Phidias, he waited for them both to catch their breath, and then he began to thrust; with an easy vigor at first, but more forcefully with each retraction, until he was nothing - just a rutting beast, pounding bodily, violently into his mate and Phidias had no choice but to wrap his legs around Henrik's back and try to ride it out. Henrik dropped down to support himself on his forearms, closer to Phidias, as he gained ferocity, and when he got close to climax, he leaned down to kiss the skin closest to him and groaned praise and endearments into Phidias' ear.

As he came, Henrik told Phidias that he loved him.

Phidias squeezed his legs tightly around Henrik before he released him, his way of saying that maybe he could possibly love him, too.

~:~

In the morning, Sheridan and Aaron Soyinka ordered breakfast in bed, made love while they waited for it to arrive, and then spent an hour watching an old movie on the small TV the B&B had provided. A third of the way through the film, Soyinka reached down to where his wife's head was cradled in his lap and ran his fingers through Sheridan's hair.  
"We should talk."

Sheridan's heart sped up. He didn't move, pretended to be engrossed in the movie.  
"About?"  
"Children."  
He couldn't pretend indifference now; he looked up. Soyinka was looking down at him with an even expression.  
"Do you want to adopt?"  
Sheridan felt sick. He looked away.  
"Is it you, then?"  
Soyinka was quiet a minute, running his hands through Sheridan's hair.  
"No. It's not me."  
Tears welled up inexplicably in Sher's eyes.  
"It's us, then."  
Soyinka didn't answer. Sheridan used a piece of the sheet to wipe at his face.  
"I'm sorry."  
"Sheridan." Soyinka's voice was gentle, but that was all he said. There was no further comfort. They lapsed back into silence.

Then, quietly, Soyinka spoke again.  
"There are things that we could try."  
Sheridan scoffed.  
"I've tried everything."  
Soyinka shook his head and gently repeated himself, catching Sheridan's cheek to turn his wife's face towards his own.  
"There are things that we could try."

~:~

On the car ride back to Woodacre, Sean dictated and Adrian took notes.  
"And tell them they need to incorporate more outdoor activities; these carriers spend too much time inside."  
Adrian wrote it down.  
"And maybe teach them a little bit about small repairs. Just things around the house."  
Adrian stopped writing and looked aghast at Sean.  
"What?" Sean asked, defensively. Adrian pursed his lips.  
"That's not appropriate."  
"Sure it is - you guys are alone in the house all day, what's the sense in - "  
"I'm not going to say that to Ren and June."  
Sean rolled his eyes.  
"I'm just trying to keep you three from raising an entire generation of idiot carriers."  
Adrian drew up at this, taking offense.  
"That's your own mother you're talking about."  
"Stepmother."  
Adrian just shook his head.  
"It will be fine. We're not going to raise idiots. We're not dumb, you know."

Sean decided it was wise to let that particular subject drop for now; a few minutes passed in silence before he spoke again.  
"Tell them they need to teach Dothan philosophy. Be sure the carriers understand why we require the things of them that we do in Dothan."  
Adrian was busy drawing pictures on the margins of his paper.   
"What does it matter? As long as they do everything else right and don't hold too strongly to an opinion that opposes their husband."   
Sean looked over at him, hard.  
"Do I need to pull this car over?"  
Adrian looked up, startled.  
"What did I do now?"  
Sean frowned.  
"Adrian, it's important to understand why we live the way we do. I don't want you to follow me just because. I want you to follow me because you understand, and you want to."  
Adrian quietly drew an irritated squiggly on his paper.  
"Adrian. Are you listening to me?"  
Adrian shrugged. Sean narrowed his eyes and set his jaw.  
"Fine. We'll talk about this when we get home."

Half of Adrian was annoyed with himself for getting in trouble again, but the other half couldn't seem to bring itself to care.


	24. May 3

"I need to get pregnant. Now."

The fertility counselor nodded and scribbled some notes down in the yellow notepad he had open on the desk in front of him.  
"OK, Sheridan. Let's talk about that."  
"No. Not 'OK,' and no _talking_. I'm under a deadline here."  
The counselor nodded calmly.  
"And when is your deadline date?"  
"May 7th."  
The counselor looked up, startled.  
"Four days from now?"  
Sheridan exhaled.  
"Yes, May 7. Four days from today. This is a rush job. Let's discuss."

The counselor stumbled over his words as he looked back down at the sheet in front of him.  
"OK. OK, well, are drugs an option for you at this time?"  
Sheridan shook his head in exasperation.  
" **Everything** is an option for me at this time."  
The man nodded and continued writing.  
"OK. Well, let's talk about your medical history. I'm looking at your chart and the results from your blood test, and I don't see anything which would indicate any major problems that we should be worried about. Have you been keeping track of your cycles?"  
Sheridan rolled his eyes.

"I have been keeping track of everything. I have a sex journal, a body journal, and a fertility journal; I track my hormone levels, I take my temperature twice a day, I take every supplement the CEC will give to me, I cook all my own food so that I can monitor my exact intakes, I eat garlic and honey and spinach and oysters, I won't go near tea, coffee, or wine, I drink exactly 8 glasses of water a day, I take _disgusting_ prenatal vitamins, I rub some weird cream that my friend James gave me on my cunt twice a day, I pray, I meditate, I try to relax, and I snack on so much fucking soy I feel like I should be standing on hooves out in a fucking field. _Nothing_ works."

The counselor frowned deeply and wrote all this down.

"And has your husband been tested already for any possible health conditions which might impact his fertility?"  
There was silence, and the question hung there, in the air, forming a pause between them which seemed to stretch on forever.   
Finally, Sheridan answered.  
"He's fine. Aaron is fine." There was another pause. "But if there were some... _confounding_ issues between us..." The counselor looked up at Sheridan; his eyes darted quickly over his patient's face, then went back down to the paper in front of him. Sheridan went on. "I was wondering if there might be some discreet solutions available."  
The counselor stopped writing and calmly put his pen down. He folded his hands on the desk and stared at Sheridan. Sher didn't blink.  
"I was wondering," he continued, "If there might be some _other_ avenues we could take. To ensure success."

~

By the time he got home, Soyinka had already arrived. Sheridan found him sitting by the window in the office, his wire rim eyeglasses on, and his face contorted into an expression of deep concentration as he pored over a page. However, at Sheridan's approach, Soyinka looked up, smiled, and stood to offer him a kiss, setting his stack of papers aside. Sheridan accepted the embrace graciously; when Soyinka reached up to touch his face, Sheridan saw that his hands were stained slightly in red ink - he must've been editing. They broke apart and Sheridan picked up the paper from the top of the stack. Its first page was covered liberally with red markings.

"Students?"  
Soyinka grinned wryly.  
"It's only their first drafts. They'll improve."  
Sheridan set the paper back down and wandered farther into the room. Soyinka watched him.  
"How was the CEC?"  
Sher shrugged.  
"OK. Boring. There wasn't as much to do as I thought there might be."  
Soyinka lifted one eyebrow and put his hands in his pocket, staining the corner of one slightly as he rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet.  
"Have you thought about taking some classes?"  
Sheridan rolled his eyes, but his back was to Soyinka and so the effect was lost.  
"I don't have time."  
Soyinka quietly mulled this over, frowning as he pushed his glasses up a little farther on his nose, then lost patience with them and took them off completely.  
"Well. Maybe it would give you something to think about besides - "  
"What do you want for dinner?" Sheridan interrupted, brightly.   
Aaron Soyinka looked at him for a minute, then tilted his head and looked out towards the window, where the sun was just trickling down into the afternoon and the sky was dimming ever so slightly.  
" _Have_ you been thinking about it, Sheridan? We only have three days."  
The carrier closed his eyes.  
"Yes." Obviously.  
"...and?"

Their house was silent. Everything was still. No rushed footsteps, no pots boiling or telephones ringing or devices chiming or names being called up the stairs or thumps of home repair or splashes from the bathroom. Just stillness and silence. Sheridan closed his eyes, soaking himself in the non-noise; one way or the other, it wouldn't last much longer.

"Yes. We can go."  
Soyinka nodded tightly, but his eyes were pools of relief.  
"I'll call Femi tonight."


	25. May 5

"So where are you two disappearing off to this weekend?"  
James asked curiously, sitting on the kitchen counter and eating cookie dough directly from the bowl while Sheridan tried to clean around him.  
"We're - _move_! - we're going to visit some family. Aaron's family."  
"Who?"  
"Cousins."  
James frowned down at the cookie dough, then stuck a finger in and swirled it to get a good coating of dough on. He put the finger in his mouth and talked around it.  
"I didn't know he had any cousins over here. I thought his cousins were all in England or the Delta."  
Sheridan paused.  
"Well, he does. And we're going to go see them."  
James shrugged.  
"OK. Have fun. Have lots of sex. Get pregnant. Tell me how it goes."  
Sheridan rinsed the sponge off in the sink and squeezed it tightly.  
"We'll be back by Sunday night."  
James took another fingerful of cookie dough and stared off into the distance.  
"Harley's been acting really nice lately." Sheridan made a noncommittal grunt and shook some of the scouring powder out into the sink. James examined the bowl closely for uneaten walnuts. "I think he's getting excited about the baby."  
Sheridan scrubbed and rinsed down the basin before answering.  
"Oh?" James nodded eagerly as Sheridan crossed the room to the refrigerator and poured himself a glass of cool water. "He always touches my belly now when we're having sex."  
Sheridan blinked.  
"Oh. Of course that's what that means."  
James ignored this.  
"Anyway, I'm just glad he's back. Himself again, you know? He was weird; I was worried for a while there."  
Sheridan nodded.  
"Yep. Me too."

~:~

Caddy had come knocking on their door earlier that morning to ask permission to go have an hour's riding lesson with Mahir and Anders, and Henrik had granted it immediately. Phidias had wondered about his husband's offhanded permissiveness until the door had clicked shut behind Caddy and Henrik had put both hands on Phidias' hips and flipped him over onto his back. Phidias was naked under the covers (Henrik's orders), and his husband had first fondled him, dragging his hands lustfully over Phidias' skin before grinning impishly and diving down under the covers to pleasure his mate with his mouth.

When he resurfaced, eyes glinting and mouth obscenely wet with Phidias' effusion, his cock had been so hard Phidias had thought it might shatter if he touched it. He'd decided the best thing to do would be to return the favor, and was just about to go down on his husband when Henrik stopped him, using both hands to push Phidias back on the bed and part his legs. Then he fucked him so hard that when Phidias came, he saw stars.

This, Henrik assured him afterwards, was the way he planned to wake Phidias up for the rest of their lives.

~

When they made it down to lunch, Denis and Tyson were already seated at the large dining room table, drinking tea and reading through a local newspaper. Denis looked up at them and smiled.  
"Henrik. God morgon."  
Henrik gave a short wave. Denis glanced at Phidias, then back to Henrik. "Hur mår du?"  
Henrik smiled.  
"We're well, thank you. What are we having this morning?"  
Without looking up from his paper, Tyson pushed a bowl of fruit forward towards Henrik. Henrik stared at it.  
"Is this it?"  
Denis shrugged.  
"You're late. We ate all the quiche." Henrik blinked at him for a minute. Tyson folded his newspaper over and kept reading unconcernedly. "There's always leftovers."  
Henrik made a face.  
"I'll make something." he turned to Phidias and kissed his cheek. "Sit, please. I'll be back shortly."

As soon as Henrik disappeared through the kitchen doors, Tyson and Denis abandoned their pretense of disinterest. They both reseated themselves on either side of Phidias; Tyson leaned forward, eyes sparking with barely restrained eagerness.  
"Well?!"  
Phidias stared at them. They stared back at him. He glanced towards the door, then back at the men.  
"Well, what?"  
Tyson sighed in exasperation, and Denis answered him.  
"Well, are you pregnant yet?"  
Phidias' face colored.  
"I don't - I don't know how I'm supposed to know that."  
Tyson and Denis exchanged looks.  
"With a test?" Tyson suggested gently. Phidias frowned.  
"It's only been a few days."  
"So? The best can catch it within 12 hours now. Of course, you'd need a hospital for those. But even for at-home ones, you only need 3 days. You've had five."  
Phidias glanced at the kitchen doors again, hoping to see Henrik.  
"Well, I don't know."  
Tyson sat back in his seat.  
"I bet you are."  
Denis nodded.  
"Most likely. Henrik never does anything by half-measures."  
"What are you going to name him?" Tyson asked.

Phidias was momentarily bewildered - not because the question was a shocking one, but simply because he hadn't thought much about the ultimate end of the pregnancy, which was a child. Another small person to take care of and feed and keep out of trouble. He wondered what Caddy would think about having a brother. Had Caddy even thought about it? Most likely. Caddy seemed to think of everything. But a name...he had no idea, and said as much to Denis and Tyson.

Tyson grinned.  
"That's OK. Ev and I haven't decided on one either, and we have even less time than you do."  
Denis pointed to his belly.  
"Gunnar Valentin."  
Tyson appeared to think this over.  
"Josef Peter, Denis Antony, and Gunnar Valentin. Not bad."  
Phidias looked over at Denis.  
"You have kids already?"  
Denis nodded.  
"Two: Josef and Denis. They are 7 and 3. They are in Spain - Josef wasn't well and so we left them with their tutor."  
Phidias looked curiously to Tyson, who shook his head.  
"This is my first. Everett's, too. But my brother has three already." Phidias must have looked confused, because Tyson clarified: "My brother, Anthony, has one adopted son and two from Mahir."  
"Ah. How old are they?"  
"The oldest is about 19 - that's Ghali; the others are 13 and 8. Mikail, and Khalil. Too young to make such a long journey, so they stayed at home with their brother. You can meet them when we get to Wafra."  
Phidias nodded, then stopped.  
"When who gets to Wafra?"  
Tyson's eyes widened briefly as he realized his mistake.  
"When we do. Denis and I." he looked to the other carrier for help, but the sound of plates being dropped in the kitchen and Henrik cursing eloquently in a Scandinavian language distracted them, and all heads turned towards the noise.

When Phidias turned back to ask Tyson his question again, the young man was gone. The kitchen doors moved suddenly, and Henrik appeared in them, carrying a tray laden down with toasted sandwiches and two glasses of juice. When Phidias stood to help him, he realized that Denis was gone as well. Henrik set the tray down on the table and was just about to head back into the kitchen to clean up when he saw Phidias' face.  
"Something wrong?"  
Phidias frowned and shrugged.  
"Are we going to Wafra?"  
Henrik's face shifted from annoyance to interest to blank unemotion.  
"Would you like to go to Wafra?"  
Phidias hesitated.  
"For how long?"  
Henrik shrugged.  
"I have business there in a few weeks. I had thought you and Cadmus might like to come along. It would be a nice trip."  
Phidias pondered this.  
"What kind of business?"  
Henrik stared at him for a half second too long before he answered.  
"Just a few meetings about some of our offshore assets."  
"What kind of assets?"  
Henrik approached the table and sat down.  
"What did Denis and Tyson say to you?"  
Phidias shook his head, suddenly feeling frustrated.  
"Nothing. They didn't say anything to me. Nobody is saying anything to me. They almost do, but then they stop. I feel like everyone is keeping something from me. I feel like _you're_ keeping something from me."

Henrik sighed and reached across the table to take Phidias' hand. Phidias pulled away.  
"Phidias."  
"Just tell me what's going on. I don't like this."  
Henrik rubbed his head with one hand.  
"I don't know how much the others have told you. There isn't much to tell. I am a scientist."  
Phidias eyed him warily.  
"And also a businessman. I know the party line. Go on."  
Henrik fiddled with the edge of the blue and white checkered cloth that covered the tray.  
"The others as well - we all met while working in the Emirates, south of al Kuwayt. We became friends. We had some common goals. Eventually, we formed an alliance amongst ourselves - we share our resources, our information, our experiments and our lives. We are a group of scientists who contract our services, as a team, to a variety of interested parties. Thus, we are a firm. But in reality, we are much more than that. We are a family."

Phidias ran through this in his mind and couldn't find fault with it, although something still seemed off-key to him.  
"So if that's all it is, then why do you all act like you're keeping secrets among yourselves?"  
"Why do you and Cadmus keep secrets between the two of you?" Henrik snapped back, more fiercely than he'd meant to.  
Phidias' heart jumped into his throat.  
"What?"  
"What I mean is that it is the nature of families to keep some things private. You will learn them over time, now that you are a part of us. You are not excluded."  
Phidias laced his fingers together on the table in front of him.  
"How did you all meet?"  
"We worked together."  
Phidias narrowed his eyes.  
"On what? Where?"  
Henrik shrugged.  
"Various projects, experiments. How did you meet your friends? The details are inconsequential, and took place so long ago and in such esoteric situations that it would be tiresome, and not at all informative, for me to relate what I can of them to you."  
Phidias folded his arms across his chest.  
"I just want an answer."  
"I met Anthony in Dubai, working on a population prediction model with some Emirate scientists."  
Phidias processed this.  
"What was he doing?"  
"Temporarily filling the post of translator."  
Phidias drummed his fingers on the table.  
"Are we really going to Wafra?"  
"I am going to Wafra. I would like it very much if you accompanied me."  
"What for?"  
Henrik frowned.  
"You are my wife. I don't want to leave you here."  
Phidias shook his head.  
"No, I mean what are you going there for?"  
Henrik's face relaxed.  
"An annual meeting of the firm, and a brief rendezvous or two with past colleagues."  
Phidias exhaled slowly. Henrik watched him.  
"Are you feeling a little better now, sweetheart?"  
Phidias rankled a little at the mild condescension in Henrik's tone, but nodded.  
"It's fine."  
Henrik put his palms flat on the table.  
"Good. I'll get the plates."  
He stood to go, but as he did, Phidias spoke again.  
"I'll have more questions." he said, looking straight into Henrik's eyes. "Later."  
Henrik tilted his head in acknowledgment.  
"Later, then. For now, let's eat."


	26. May 7 [Sunday]

Sheridan woke, cold and damp, to the weight of a hand touching his shoulder. He opened his eyes; it was still dark. Light flickered, and he looked up. Aaron was standing over him, looking down at him from across the flame of the candle he held in his right hand. His expression was unreadable.  
"Come." he said. "It's time."

Sheridan got up, wrapping a sheet around himself. Together, they crossed the campsite and went into the juju man's tent.

~:~

James woke to a bright light and Harley shaking him furiously in their bed.  
"Harley? What's - "  
" _What the **fuck** , Jamie?! What the **FUCK**?!_ "  
James tried to focus his eyes - Harley was angry, he knew it in his tone and in the violence of his touch. Why? he ran through a hundred reasons in his head - had he left a light on? missed an appointment? forgotten laundry? was he supposed to be making breakfast? what time was it?

Harley had stopped shaking him and was kneeling on his side of the bed now, staring accusingly at James with a face so mad he looked ready to snap at any moment.  
"What. The. Fuck."  
James shook his head, babbling fearfully.  
"I don't know! Harley, what happened?! Harley, I don't understand, babe, I didn't - "  
"Don't _touch_ me." Harley slapped away the hand James had extended. "It's **not** OK. Not OK at all."  
James stared, bewildered, at Harley.  
"What isn't??"  
Harley narrowed his eyes hatefully, reached out and grabbed roughly at James' crotch. James winced in pain, but the hand was removed before he had a moment to complain.  
"You got hard. You got fucking halfway hard and you hit me in the ass with your fucking dick."  
James was so shocked that for several long seconds, he could do nothing more than stare across the bed at his husband.  
"...what?"  
"Your _fucking dick_ , James! Fuck." Harley ran his hand twice through his hair, roughly. In the light of the bedside lamp, he looked strange and disturbed.

James blinked his eyes slowly; he was trying to understand - really, he was - but it was 3 a.m. and this was like something out of a horror novel. His instincts told him to placate. He held up his hands in surrender.  
"OK. OK. I'm sorry. I didn't - I didn't mean to touch you."  
Harley was still irate.  
"Is this what you do? You - slide up against me like - like you've been humping me in my sleep or something? Like I'm some bitch in heat?"  
"What?! No, I didn't - "  
"Yes, you did. And it's not OK. Don't _you_ touch _me_ like that." Harley leaned forward, and James shivered but held his ground. Harley's eyes darkened and the vein in his neck pulsed a little. "Don't you ever, _ever_ touch me like that." Harley's voice was barely above a hiss, and it had a sharp edge to it - a danger that came through clearly, even in the haze of sleep disturbed. James swallowed.  
"OK. OK, I'm sorry."  
Harley stared at him for a moment longer, then moved forward abruptly, the aggression of the movement pushing James back.  
"You're sorry?" One knee pushed roughly between James' legs and a hand yanked his neck back by his hair. Harley began to fumble at the fly of his pants. "You're sorry?" he released his cock, already thick and red with excitement. It bobbed obscenely between them until Harley caught it in his right fist and began to pump it, fiercely. The hand in his hair tightened. "I will _make_ you fucking sorry."

~:~

He had to lay on his back. He had to lay on his back and he couldn't move at all. Feeling like a butterfly pinned to a corkboard, Sheridan stared up at the ceiling, watching the shadows lick and shudder where they were struck by the light of the fire. He couldn't move at all. The old man was coming towards him, though - Sher could hear those thin brass bracelets he wore. Presently, there was a warmth over him - a presence. The old man appeared.

First, he looked at Sheridan; into his eyes and at his teeth, prodding his belly, probing a finger at his cunt. Then he began demanding, croaking out his questions in that strange, broken voice of his.  
Had the woman eaten the meal of fish and honeyed yams?   
Aaron answered - she had.   
And had Aaron made his contribution?   
He had.   
Three times?   
Yes.

Sheridan began to tremble; the light of the fire was casting new shadows in the room and they swayed limpidly above him. His bare skin felt hot, suddenly, no longer chilled as it had when he'd entered. The old man was holding his hands over Sheridan's body as if warming himself at a fire. His eyes were closed.   
Aaron watched, silently, from the shadows.

Sheridan felt something cold touch him suddenly, far below his navel, at the line of hair where he'd been shaved. He jerked, startled. The old man chided him.  
"Be still, woman. It is just the shells."

Sheridan swallowed and closed his eyes. Aaron was silent. Long moments of nothing, and then another touch of cold as a second cowrie shell was laid beside the first. Over time, a third. A fourth. They began to form the shape of a spiral.

The old man sang in a language Sheridan couldn't understand, but it was a pretty, baleful hum.

The cowries kept coming down. Six. Seven. The song rose in tempo.   
Aaron was silent - somehow, against the rising drama of the melody, he seemed more silent than before.

The song stopped. The old man began chanting in a low, desperate voice, and Sheridan could pick out words now - he was speaking to someone. Sheridan kept perfectly still.   
Then another cold weight - the stone. It rested on his belly.  
Then the old man's finger, wet with some substance, made contact with his skin just below the lowest shell. He dragged the finger down, through the small thatch of hair that Sheridan had left, along the shaft of his penis to the tip. Sheridan wanted so badly to look down and see what was happening, but fear kept him from moving. It was only fear, though - no pain.

The old man was more energetic now, speaking eagerly, imploring. He began to touch Sheridan's hips, rolling them this way and that. Sheridan laid limp, let the old man manipulate his body. After a few moments, the rolling stopped and Sheridan was allowed to lie back again.

Then the old man brought a bowl of something and washed Sheridan between his legs, gently parting the skin at his entrance and laving him there, too.

When he was done, he muttered a few words then stood, straight as an arrow (how old was the old man? seventy? ninety?), and turned to face Aaron. Aaron, however, was still watching Sheridan, who lay unmoving on the altar.  
"Is he - "  
"He will be. Go to him now and you will have a boy by daylight."

Aaron swallowed, emotion overwhelming him momentarily. The old man was still looking at him, waiting to speak. In his hand, he held the cloth he'd bathed Sheridan with; he held it out to Aaron.

"Take a stone from the ocean. Wrap it in this. Hang it from his waist."  
Aaron nodded solemnly and reached a hand forward to take it, but the old man held fast, catching Aaron's eyes.  
"There are spirits in your house that don't want him to conceive." The old man pressed the damp cloth into Aaron's hand and closed his fingers over it. "They will hurt your child. Keep them away."  
Aaron nodded again, and glanced over at Sheridan. The old man stepped to the side, then pointed out of the tent and upwards, where the ink of night was just beginning to fade.  
"Until daylight," he repeated, then was gone.

~:~

Adrian scrambled the eggs with the metal spatula and shook his head.  
"I just don't think it's fair, and I think it's silly to participate in something just because it's supposedly tradition."  
Ren didn't even glance up from where he was chopping onions and peppers for the omelette at the kitchen table.  
"It _is_ tradition, and it is fair, Adrian."

Adrian and Ren were sitting in the kitchen of the family house in Woodacre. Adrian was clothed in his CEC-issued sleeping attire - a black tank and shorts with the Centre's logo branded across both. Brookham Carrier Education Centre. At first, he had found the bright blue lettering tacky; now, the familiarity of it comforted him.

Ren shifted in his chair, putting both feet flat on the floor, and wrapped his hands around his hot tea. At this hour of morning, the air still had some chill to it, but the house functioned primarily on hydronic heat which kept the floor constantly warm.   
Adrian set the spatula down and walked over to collect the chopping board from his stepmother.  
"It's _unequal_."  
"Equal isn't always fair, Adrian."  
Adrian mixed in the onions and green peppers.  
"Well. I still think Sean is taking it too far."  
Ren sipped his tea, then rolled the mug between his hands. Under the table, his bare feet rested on the bars of another chair, pushing it slightly out from the others.  
"Oh?"  
Adrian made to speak, then paused. It was almost too much to tell.  
"He makes me...kneel."  
Ren stopped rolling his mug.  
"He does?"  
Adrian nodded, suddenly feeling miserable and wound up and very confused.  
"It's...not all the time. Just in private."  
Ren took a long sip of his tea.  
"OK. So that's OK."  
Adrian shrugged.  
"I don't know. It's...a lot. It's hard."  
Ren nodded.  
"Submission is hard."  
There was a pause between them, and Adrian scrambled the eggs fiercely. Ren watched him, then spoke.  
"Does he punish you?"  
Adrian stared at the pan of eggs.  
"He hasn't. He keeps saying he will."  
Too late, he realized that had come out like a complaint. Ren was swift.  
"Do you want him to?"  
Adrian thought about it.  
"No." he thought more. "Maybe. I don't know."  
Ren nodded and began to roll the mug between his hands again.  
"You need it."   
Adrian shook his head fiercely and turned down the heat of the cooktop.  
"No. I don't."  
Ren sighed.  
"Believe me, you do. You need to know."  
Adrian transferred the finished omelette onto three plates and began cracking new eggs into the pan.  
"Know what?"  
"Everything. Where the limits are, the boundaries. Know how you get him to snap. Know what he'll do. Know what it will be like. Know that you'll be fine." Ren sipped his tea. "Know that he won't hurt you. That he loves you. Until it happens, you've got all that hanging over your head and that is tough. Believe me, it's worse than any punishment could ever be."  
Adrian worried at his lip with his teeth and grated cheese over the eggs.  
"So what do I do?"  
Ren grinned.  
"Ask for a spanking?"  
Adrian cast a horrified glance over his shoulder. Ren laughed.  
"Alright. Fine. Well, you don't have to be so blunt, but you can talk to him. Tell him what you need. That's what us adults do."  
Adrian shook his head.  
"Negative. Next idea."  
Ren grinned mischievously.  
"Well, if you'd rather act like a child...you could just provoke him."  
"Bingo. How?"

Ren leaned his head back, tilting slightly in the chair and taking in the view of the ceiling.  
"I don't know. What does he hate? Boy, do I need to clean that ceiling fan."  
Adrian glanced up.  
"Yuck. I'll get it this afternoon."  
"Don't - you're pregnant. Kylie can do it."  
Adrian nodded his accord.  
"Fine. OK, how do I provoke him?"  
"How do you usually provoke him?"  
Adrian's cheeks colored.  
"I don't know. It just tends to happen. My mouth runs away with me."  
Ren laughed.  
"Well, there you go - use your mouth. Tell him how silly you think Dothan traditions are."  
Adrian glanced to the side.  
"That might provoke him too much."  
Ren raised an eyebrow.  
"Well, I think you'll figure something out."

Adrian sighed and shook a little pepper into the eggs. After a minute's silence, he asked,  
"So does Dad ever...punish you?"  
"Yes." Ren answered, unfazed. "And I kneel for him, too."  
Adrian jerked his head around.  
"I've never seen you do that."  
Ren shrugged.  
"You don't have to. Everything we do isn't meant to be shared."  
Adrian stared at his stepmother for a minute, then demurely nodded and turned back to the eggs, which were now sizzling quite a bit in the pan.  
"So does - "  
"I tell you what." Ren cut him off. "After chore meeting this afternoon, you and me and some of the others - we'll all meet up and talk about it."

Ren's voice held a tinge of warning, and bit of impatience, and so Adrian turned to scold him and saw exactly why. William Mackenzie was standing in the doorway. Adrian scanned his father's face for signs that he'd been eavesdropping, but his dad looked open and happy.  
"My two favorite beauties. How are you this morning?"  
Will made his way to the breakfast table, where his newspaper was already folded and waiting for him next to the seat across from Ren. His wife smiled.  
"Fine."  
Adrian turned off the stove for good and transferred the second group of eggs to two plates for he and Ren.  
"Fine." he pitched in. His father looked up at him.  
"Where's Sean this morning?"  
"Early post."  
"Ah." Ren had gotten up to retrieve coffee for his husband; he now set it down in front of Will, who smiled at him. "Thank you, dear."  
Ren inclined his head and returned to his seat. Will switched his attention to Adrian.  
"So I understand Sean's having you kneel."  
So he had been listening. Adrian busied himself getting juice from the fridge, hoping that appearing industrious would save him from this conversation.  
"Yep."  
"That's a very traditional behavior."  
Adrian found the grapefruit juice and pulled it out, then decided to take out orange as well.  
"Yep."  
"Do you understand the significance of that act?"  
Adrian colored again and dug deeper in the fridge.  
"Yes."  
"Tell me about it."  
Adrian sighed and pulled out the orange juice, but still did not turn to look at his father.  
"I love my husband. I do what he tells me. He says kneel, I kneel."  
Will Mackenzie stared hard at his carrier son.  
"And that's all?"  
Adrian sighed.  
"I don't - I don't know, Dad."

Will Mackenzie folded his arms across his chest and leaned back a little in his chair.   
"The kneeling is representative, Adrian. It is the physical expression of the ultimate acceptance of your roles in the universe. Commander, Obedient. Husband, Wife. Giver, Receiver. Provider, Creator. Caretaker, Lifegiver. When you kneel for Sean, you show him that you accept him in all these ways. You give him much more than the childish pleasure of getting what he wants. You give him yourself; you give him your heart; you give him fulfillment. You make him who he is."  
Adrian glanced at Ren, who was looking a bit overtaken with emotion and had ducked his head down towards his tea. Adrian looked back at his father.  
"Oh. I see."  
"You see?" Will Mackenzie shook his head fondly and grinned at Adrian. "Well. Someday, you'll understand."

~:~

Henrik had arranged for them to take a mini-vacation - a prehoneymoon, he'd called it - and now they were cruising in Henrik's sleek black towncar through the main street of a small town that had obviously done well for itself in recent years. A lot of the construction looked old, but paint was new, and freshly stained ramps and railings added touches of color and life to the town. Henrik had been quiet most of the ride, but Phidias had been in a chatty mood, and so had been sharing some stories of his time in the Pacific.

At a lull in conversation, Henrik spoke.  
"This reminds me. I've done something for you, Phidias." Phidias looked in surprise at his husband. It shifted briefly to fear, but then back to happy surprise. Henrik smiled, politely ignoring the reticence. "I met a gentleman at the wedding - Dr. Alan Long."  
Phidias nodded and kept the smile plastered on his face, although he **really** wondered where this was going now. Henrik looked out of the window at some passing horses, then turned back to Phidias.  
"We spoke about you."  
Phidias waited for the other shoe to drop. Was he in trouble? Should he not have invited his old colleagues? Was Henrik mad? Phidias couldn't tell. Henrik dragged a finger across the leather of the car door, smudging it slightly.  
"We've both agreed it might be beneficial for you to resume your position at the Institution."  
"Institute." Phidias said it reflexively, his brain still working overtime at processing what Henrik had just said. His husband continued.  
"Institute. Anyway, we thought it might be good for your health if you did so."  
Phidias merely nodded, his mouth feeling clumsy and surprisingly dry.   
"It - I - Yes!" he finally managed, and Henrik's face burst into a smile. Belatedly, Phidias realized that his lack of response must have had his husband worried. "Yes! Thank you! How did you come up with this? Oh, I don't care - thank you!"  
Henrik smiled more broadly and inclined his head.  
"Just remember that your family is your first job. This is your second."  
Phidias nodded and looked kindly at Henrik, his eyes wide and admiring.  
"As if I could ever forget."

~:~

Sheridan and Aaron Soyinka had the last appointment of the day. At seven o'clock in the evening, they sat in the waiting hall of the fertility testing clinic, waiting anxiously for their results. If they were negative, they had 24 hours and only one alternative left. Sheridan fingered the little slip of paper in his pocket that had the number of the fertility counselor's contact on it. Aaron had warned him not to bring it, but he'd snuck it anyway. It wasn't like anyone would be checking his pockets.

Things had been strange all day between Aaron and himself. Aaron was surprisingly quiet - distant, almost. He seemed ever on the alert. Sheridan prayed that the ritual hadn't been the cause of it. Cure worse than the disease, he thought idly. Aaron seemed so troubled. He hoped it had been worth it - all the smoke and drama. He hoped it had worked. Aaron had seemed so confident, but in what? Who knew. Empty ritual had never held much meaning to Sheridan.

Sheridan fingered the slip of paper again. It wouldn't be so bad, if they had only that one alternative left after this visit. A son that was practically Aaron's would be just as good as one that actually was, right? A kid was a kid, no matter who the sire was. Sheridan glanced over at his husband. Aaron Soyinka had his hands folded together in his lap; his thumbs were warring each other raucously. Sheridan covered them with his hand and Aaron looked up at him.  
Sheridan gave the closest to a smile he could manage. Please letmebe pleaseletme be pleaselet mebe please...  
"Mr. Soyinka?"  
A nurse - a pretty brown haired carrier - was standing in front of him. He was holding a clipboard. Sheridan swallowed and nodded.  
"That's me. That's us."  
The carrier extended his hand.  
"Congratulations."


	27. May 10

Adrian sat fanning himself in the seat beside June, in the center row of seats in the room. Honestly, he'd wanted to sit with Ren and his father, but they had gently reminded Adrian that he was a married carrier now, and it would no longer be proper for him to be seen clinging to his mother. Adrian sighed and fiddled with his Book, flipping it open to random pages, then closing it again. Beside him, June was focused on the speech being given at the front of the room.

"And so to every thing there is an order. The flower grows. The bird soars. The fox tiptoes along the edge of a fence. The hunter hunts. The prey is caught. These are the ways of nature. These are the balances we must maintain."

Adrian was just about to tune out when the speaker's tone shifted.

"Thus, when things fall out of balance - when they become less adherent to their nature and more envious of the nature of others, we must correct them. When the bird no longer wants to soar, but to walk, we must help him remember how good it was to fly. When the hunter sits down at a tree and no longer seeks his course, we must assure him and send him on his way. Because without the balance - without every individual fulfilling the role ascribed to him, we might all just lose our place in the world. And that, for all of us, would mean death."  
There was silence in the room.  
"And so we must make it clear that we will not tolerate the disturbance of our own balance, here, in Dothan. We will not tolerate the abandonment of nature. We will not tolerate the eschewing of the intrinsic way of things. We are a good people, who will not tolerate the threatening of the balance of our world."

When Adrian looked up at the pulpit, he was disturbed to realize that the speaker was staring directly at him.

~:~

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuuuuuuuck."  
Sheridan grinned against Aaron Soyinka's shoulder as his husband came, hard, inside of him, the wet hot feeling raising him almost to the brink of orgasm, but not quite over it. He tightened his legs around his husband, wanting just a few more minutes of connection. Aaron Soyinka grunted and rolled them over so that Sheridan was on top. He kissed Sher's shoulder and beamed at him.  
"You're perfect. Have I told you that lately?"  
Sheridan grinned.  
"You liked that?"  
Aaron blinked large dark eyes, still hazy with the afterglow and nodded.  
"Yes. Very much. Let's keep it in the repertoire, shall we?"  
Sheridan laughed and agreed.

They lay together, basking in the early morning light for a few moments, until it became too warm and sticky between them. Sher moved off of his husband, wriggling down to lay on his back next to Aaron, his legs still twisted in the sheets. Gently, Aaron splayed his large hand across Sheridan's stomach. His touch was tentative, and Sheridan watched in fascination at the way the darkness of his husband's skin contrasted with the pallor of Sheridan's own. Aaron's fingers, trailing across his belly, bumped into the string of beads tied to the little blue pouch that the juju man had given him. Soyinka spun the beads around so that the pouch fell on the front of Sheridan's abdomen.  
"You still wear this?"  
Sheridan shrugged.  
"Why not?"  
Soyinka snorted a little, which surprised Sheridan. He frowned, suddenly feeling indignant.  
"It's a matter of faith."  
Soyinka nodded.  
"Quite true." he let go of the waist beads and rolled over onto his back, staring up at the empty white ceiling. "It is all a matter of faith."

~:~

He couldn't have his office back. Dr. Long had been very apologetic, but had informed Phidias that, since he'd left, things had been changed around, moved. Particularly after he'd been enrolled in the accelerated program. They had been sure he would not be coming back.

They had also had to make changes, Dr. Long explained as they walked through the hallways, since Phidias had been rehired. New security systems at all the entrances to the doorways; cameras in the stairwells; passcard systems. His husband had insisted. Fortunately, his husband had also paid for them all, and the building had been long overdue for them anyway.  
"We're a research facility," Dr. Long said, stopping by one of the vending machines to buy himself a packet of digestive biscuits, "and the work we do is just as important as any biochemical mumbo jumbo. The government just forgets that sometimes."

Phidias had been reassigned to the small office catercorner to Dr. Long's. It had been recently cleaned, but not repainted. There were two white shelves squeezed onto one wall, taking up most of the walking space. Phidias had to turn sideways to get past them and behind his desk, which was pushed flush up against the wall opposite. In his chair, he faced the door; behind him was a single, grated, curtainless window.

Dr. Long stood in the doorway and rocked on the balls of his feet. His hands clenched behind his back in his customary fashion, making his yellow button-down shirt stretch taut across his belly.  
"We can get some of your old journals and things moved back in here. They're all down in storage." Phidias stared around at the blank walls and felt dizzy for some reason. Maybe he needed a drink of water. Alan cleared his throat. "I realize it's a step down, Phil."  
Phidias shook his head and set the box he'd been carrying down on the desk.  
"No. No, it's great." Phidias nodded. "Honestly. Thanks."  
Alan Long tilted his head and shrugged.  
"Well. Don't thank me. Thank your husband."

~:~

"It was weird, Sean."  
Sean shrugged and squeezed Adrian's hand as they walked across the grass towards Will Mackenzie's house.  
"I'm sure it was just coincidental."  
Adrian looked out across the massive courtyard to the far field where their own half-built house stood.  
"Everyone still thinks I'm...they still hate me."  
"We don't hate you, Adrian. We don't hate anybody."  
"They think I'm a traitor."  
Sean shrugged.  
"You were."  
Adrian pulled at their joined hands.  
"But I'm back now! I'm back and I - I got married and I'm pregnant and I built a house and did all the ceremonies and showed up at every service and joined a bunch of committees I don't like. I don't know what else I'm supposed to do." he finished, desperately. Pulling at the hand he held, Adrian stopped walking. "What am I doing wrong?" he asked, quietly.  
Sean knelt to pick up a dandelion with his free hand.  
"Nothing." he began to twist the stem of the flower between two fingers. "It's just that some people have a hard time forgiving. They don't...forget easily."  
Adrian shook his head.  
"It's not fair. I'm back now. I'm here and I'm acting normal, and I'm not...causing any problems. I don't understand." his eyes were beginning to fill, and so Sean stopped their walking and turned Adrian to face him.  
"Hey. Listen. It's not you. It's them. You're doing everything you can - "  
"But it's not enough." Adrian crossed his arms over his chest, his voice trembling. "It's never enough."

Sean sighed and stared off to the side for a minute. He moved his hands off of Adrian and threw the crumpled dandelion off into the grass. It fell, lifeless, manipulated by the breeze. Without looking at him, Sean answered:  
"It's not like you're perfect, Adie."  
Adrian swallowed and pulled the edge of his sleeve forward to wipe his face.  
"But I'm trying, it's just - "  
Still watching the dandelion, Sean interrupted him.  
"Try harder."


	28. May 12

"Caddy, you're being such a selfish prude. Share with us! What do you even _have_ this time? I bet it's something lame."  
Caddy cast an annoyed glare at Ashby and Beal and looked pointedly over his shoulder.   
"First of all, it's not lame. And second of all, if you get me caught, then I'm telling everyone that everything is yours."  
Beal looked abashed, then glanced around their little corner of the library.  
"Sorry. Nobody heard. What do you have?"  
"Um, the same thing I had yesterday, Beal."  
Beal scoffed.  
"Nothing new? I told you it'd be lame."  
Caddy glared at him.  
"I don't see you contributing anything!" he snapped. "Besides, it was hard enough to sneak this stuff in here. I'm not doing this again."  
Ashby crossed his arms over his chest and sighed.  
"Well. I guess just give me some of the vodka, then."  
Caddy frowned.  
"I'm not giving you alcohol, Ashby. You're on like, four different kinds of meds."  
The little blonde sighed dramatically and rolled his eyes.  
"Fiiiine. The other stuff, then." he said, quietly.  
"No!" Beal interrupted, "That's mine!"  
Caddy snorted and set his magazine down.  
"What? You're so lonely that you can't share?"  
"Shutup, Cadmus." Beal sniped at him. "Not all of us like to spend our time fantasizing about our family members."

Caddy, who had been about to hop down from the window seat he was currently occupying, turned red and got back into his seat.  
"Well, since you're going to be a bitch about it, you can get your own stash."  
Ashby scoffed at Beal and looked put out.  
"Come on, Caddy. Bee didn't mean it. I thought we were friends?"  
Caddy stared at him in disbelief.  
"I thought we were, too! I told you about Andy in secret, not so you could tell everyone and make fun of me!"  
Ashby raised his hands in surrender and backed off.   
"I'm sorry! I only told Beal because he's my second best friend, and I figured you'd tell him yourself anyway! Bee's not going to say anything." Ashby cut a vicious look at the other carrier, "Are you, Bee?" Beal opened his mouth to respond, but Ashby interrupted him. "Sorry, what's that, Bee? You want me to tell everyone why you _really_ couldn't come to summer session two last year?"  
Beal's eyes darkened and he stared at Ashby for a long moment before turning back to Cadmus.  
"I'm not going to say anything, Caddy." he promised.  
Shaking his head, Caddy hopped down from his post and knelt on the floor by the bench.  
"Look, just...watch out for teachers, OK?"  
Ashby nodded, and Beal grinned gleefully.

Caddy lifted the cushion of the bench, then felt around for the appropriate crack in the wood and lifted the corner of the wood up, just enough for him to reach his arm in. He felt around for a minute, careful not to knock over any of the jars he'd set inside, and grasped hold of the stack of magazines hidden to the far right. Just as he did, however, Ashby squeaked and hit him, pushing him almost off-balance.  
"Caddy! Hurry up! I hear somebody!"  
"Shit, Ashby!"  
Caddy panicked and tried to pull his arm out, but something must have caught when Ashby had pushed him, because Caddy quickly realized that his arm was well and truly stuck.  
"Ash! Bee! I'm stuck! Help!"  
Ashby whipped around to look at him.  
"Aw, _hell_ , Caddy!"  
"Hide me!"  
"I can't hide you!!"  
"Then PULL ME OUT!" he hissed, and Ashby stepped back, took hold of Cadmus' shoulder, and tried in vain to wrench the arm free.   
"You're hurting me!!" Caddy squealed. The footsteps grew closer, and were recognizable now as distinctly adult. This was not good. Beal, who had been looking a bit green from the whole experience, suddenly leapt to his feet, turned and gallantly fled.  
Ashby rolled his eyes.  
"Oh, for fuck's - Caddy, it's your shirt! I think your shirt is caught! It - "  
"Boys? What are you doing?"

Ashby looked up, spotted their substitute peer group leader, and very heroically squeaked and took off running. Caddy sighed and closed his eyes, resting his forehead on the wooden bench that trapped him.

Well. This was not good at all.

~:~

"Hey."  
Sheridan looked up from his book to see James in the doorway of Soyinka's library/workroom.  
"Hey."  
James rocked back on his heels, his hands locked behind his back.  
"Notice anything?"  
Sheridan looked him up and down, then shook his head.  
"No."  
James exhaled in annoyance and came closer to Sher, lifting his shirt.  
"Look."  
Sheridan looked, but saw nothing. James rolled his eyes.  
"Feel."  
Hesitantly, Sheridan pressed one hand to James' stomach. James covered it with his own, pressing Sher's fingers into the right spot.  
"I'm showing, right? Almost. Practically!"  
Sheridan nodded.  
"You are." he pressed gently against the bump and smiled up at his friend. "Did you show Harley?"  
James shrugged and tossed his hair over his shoulder, the movement suddenly striking Sheridan as ridiculous.  
"No. He was gone before I woke up."

Sheridan flattened his palm against James' skin and lost himself for a minute in the sensation of being so close to something so tiny and absolutely impossibly unreal. He wondered what his own body would feel like. Would he know? Could he sense it? How big would it get?

Sheridan looked up suddenly, wanting to look into James' eyes, to feel the human connection he desperately needed. James was watching him, his gaze sheltered by the fringe of his hair. Sheridan swallowed and tried to pull his hand away, but James stopped him.  
"Sheridan." the tone of his voice gave away what his eyes did not. Sheridan shook his head.  
"No, James."  
Then his chin upturned, and there was James, his eyes open and gaze naked for Sheridan to see.  
"Please." he said, his eyes flicking back and forth between Sheridan's. "Please, Sher."  
Sheridan swallowed and felt that unnerving consideration pass through his mind. He pushed James back, gently.  
"No, James."  
In response, the dark haired carrier folded his arms over his chest and bit his lip, looking shut in and frightened. He shook his head.  
"I just need - once."

Abruptly, James crossed the space between them, took Sheridan's face in his hands, and kissed him. Sheridan was too startled to fight him, but separated them gently as soon as he got his wits back. Apart, James was vulnerable again. He ran a hand through his hair and Sheridan realized his eyes were tearing.  
"Please. I just - I need someone to share this with."   
Sheridan ached for his friend, he did, but there was too much that too quickly, could become too dangerous.  
"No. I - it's not a good idea."  
There was silence and James scrubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand. Sheridan reached out to touch him and he recoiled.  
"We can be friends, James." he said, his voice low. "We can always be friends. Just nothing else, OK?" James nodded, but the tears were coming down his cheeks now and Sheridan felt compelled to comfort him. "Hey." he leaned forward, crossing the space of his own accord, and kissed Sheridan gently on the cheek. "We can be friends, OK? And I can love you that way."  
James nodded, still tearful.  
"Don't - please don't tell Harley what I did? Or Aaron? That I kissed you?"  
Sheridan ran a hand over the top of his friend's hair, smoothing down where it had been mussed by James' nervous touch.  
"I won't. I won't. OK? Harley never has to know."  
Footsteps at the doorway startled them both and they looked up to see Harley standing there in his uniform shirt and pants, his jacket slung over one shoulder.  
"Harley never has to know what?" he asked, in a voice that suggested that he already did.

~:~

Cadmus sat with his arms crossed and his face fixed in a scowl, in his seat across the desk from the Bloc Principal. Principal Winn was a skinny, pinch-faced officer in his 40s who did not look in any way amused by Cadmus, nor his reluctance to answer questions. They had had a rather unfruitful discussion in the minutes prior, but the principal was currently hunched over his desk, frowning at some piece of paper on which, Cadmus was sure, he was writing notes about "the incident."

Evidence of said incident was currently lined neatly along the edge of his desk. Caddy sighed. His dad was not going to like this. Especially not after the whole skipping school thing. He was never going to hear the end of it. And he would probably be grounded forever. Which really meant for a week and a half, but _still_. It was going to be all 'I'm so disappointed in you' and 'Lost opportunities to learn' for the next month, at minimum. Caddy looked up at the clock above the principal's desk. Almost an hour since he'd called. It didn't usually take the driver that long to get here. There was the sound of footsteps and conversation approaching in the hall, and Caddy perked up. Finally, his dad had come to rescue him from the boredom of the supervisor's office.

The door opened and, to Cadmus' deep surprise and fear, revealed not his father, but Henrik. A very irritated Henrik, if the look on his face and the vein in his jaw were any indication. The substitute PGL, who had been escorting Henrik down the hall and, to Caddy's eternal disgust, appeared to be practically fawning over him, stepped back, gave a little wave to the principal, and disappeared. Henrik looked at Cadmus.   
"Hello, Cadmus."  
Caddy was frozen in place. A thousand questions ran through his mind, but he managed to blurt only one.  
"Wh - where's my dad?"  
Henrik raised his eyebrow.  
"Your father is at work, Cadmus."

A wave of annoyance at his own stupidity came over him. Of course his dad was back at work. How could he have forgotten? Henrik crossed the room towards the principal and Cadmus, and Caddy sat up a little straighter in his chair, put his hands into his lap, and dropped his eyes. The principal stood, eagerly extending his hand across the desk towards Henrik in greeting.  
"Mr. Angstrom! So nice to meet you. I'm Anthony Winn, the Bloc Principal for B Bloc. Cadmus is one of my students."

Henrik shook the man's hand and stood until the principal indicated they sit. Seating himself, he took the chair beside Cadmus, and Caddy leaned away as he could manage. Henrik did not look at him; instead, his eyes flicked briefly down to the desk, to the items of interest lined up along it, then back up to the principal, his face set in an expression of calm disinterest.  
"I was called about an incident."  
The principal nodded, shuffling some papers.  
"Yes, yes. The uh, the incident in question," he took a moment to sneeze, turning his head only slightly away from the desk before handing Henrik a copy of the report. "Sorry. The incident in question refers to the fact that Cadmus was found today in the library by his Peer Group Leader in possession of these items." he gestured to the jars and magazines in front of them. Henrik flicked his eyes down once more, then back up. His lack of response seemed to command the principal to continue. "Of course, the severity of the incident, in addition to Cadmus' rather spotty record of behavior, made us feel compelled to call you in. This has, you understand, become a part of a pattern of behavioral issues that we feel may require therapeutic correction."

Caddy's heart plunged into his stomach at that. They would send him to therapy? For this? It was just a joke, not even anything serious. He wasn't a danger! It was just something fun, just a little entertainment. And Henrik would probably go along with their ideas. Henrik probably had more rules than they did, even. He could start a therapy house of his own. Caddy's throat tightened. If his dad were here, this wouldn't happen. Phidias would never let this happen. I want my dad, Caddy thought. I want my dad.

The principal spoke again.  
"Now, in the library, we found several - " Winn was sure to put special emphasis on that word, looking pointedly at Cadmus, "- pornographic magazines in this little 'stash' of his, hidden inside a broken bench, of all places! Pornography, in addition to six different jars of alcohol. We believe he had some intent to redistribute these items to other students."  
Henrik's jaw twitched, just slightly. Caddy's heart skipped a beat. I want my dad, he thought. I want my dad I want my dad I want my dad.  
"I see. And did my son tell you where he acquired these items?"  
The principal shook his head.  
"No." he cast another annoyed look at Cadmus. "In fact, he's been quite uncooperative."  
Caddy wanted to shrink away and disappear. Henrik inclined his head.  
"You say these items were found inside a broken bench in a library."  
The principal nodded.  
"Yes, Mr. Angstrom, that is exactly the case. We think - "  
"Did my son _tell_ you that these were his possessions?"  
The principal hesitated.  
"No, but the context in which - "  
"Did my son tell you that he had any intention of redistributing these items, which may or may not have been his?"  
The principal drew himself up, beginning to bristle at Henrik's tone.  
"Mr. Angstrom, in my experience - "  
"In my experience, Principal Winn, questions cannot be answered by making assumptions."  
Caddy looked over at his stepfather in shock. The principal just glared at him. Henrik looked over the jars.  
"Are other students being questioned about this incident?"  
The principal glared over at Cadmus.   
"Well, given your son's...particular behavioral history here at Brookham, I'd say there's a good chance - "  
"I'd say there's a good chance you should choose your next words carefully, Principal Winn."

Cadmus' eyebrows nearly shot into his hair. Calmly, Henrik steepled his fingers and regarded the spread.  
"Although I agree that Cadmus most likely has had some part in this...incident, I am not convinced of either his role or his intentions as you've presented them, and under no conditions will I allow my son to be sent into therapy on hearsay. Perhaps the issue," Henrik pressed further, "That you should most immediately address is how your security procedures became so lax as to allow such material to be brought in and shared around among the carriers at all." The principal was turning an interesting shade of red. Henrik got to his feet, brushed the sleeves of his jacket off, and looked down at the report in his hand. "I expect that this report will be corrected to reflect what we discussed here today. I don't care for inaccuracy in the reporting of my son's behavior not when it could affect his personal health."

The principal's eyes darkened, and Caddy noticed he was making fists with his hands on the table.  
"Mr. Angstrom, neither I nor Cadmus' peer group leader feel comfortable allowing this behavior to go unpunished in this Bloc. There must be _consequences_ for your son's behavior - for his part in this activity, however small it may have been! This state of things **cannot** continue! Cadmus has been rude to other students, ignored health procedures, refused meals, abandoned assignments or neglected them altogether, skipped classes, and now brought _contraband_ into the Centre! There must be some kind of change!"  
Henrik looked mildly surprised.  
"Principal Winn, I assure you: there will be consequences." Cadmus' heart began its regular pounding again, trying to break free from his body. "However, Cadmus and I will discuss them at home." Henrik looked over at his stepson for only the second time since he'd arrived. "Caddy, come."

Caddy got to his feet warily and began to follow his stepfather towards the door. The principal stood up and trailed after them, his face still enraged. Henrik turned back to him when they had all reached the door.   
"And since you seem to desire more drastic changes, so be it. Cadmus Angstrom will no longer be enrolled for study at the Brookham CEC."

~

In the car, Caddy looked over at his stepfather, wanting to speak.  
"I, um - "  
Henrik held up a hand to stop him, still focusing on the report in his lap.  
"You answered no questions. Silence is often the best course of action. And you kept your materials unassociated with your person. These were good choices."  
Caddy was shocked by the sudden praise. Maybe Henrik wasn't so mad after all?  
"I - thanks. I just - "  
"However, breaking the rules of the Centre and of our home were bad choices." Henrik paused, then went on. "And in the future, don't use something so identifiable as the jars we keep under the sink at the house."  
Caddy sighed and felt stupid all over again. Henrik took one last glance over his report, then placed it inside of a black leather portfolio.  
"Breaking the Centre's rules is the least of what you've done here today. Where did you get the alcohol?"  
Cadmus focused hard on the floor.  
"I took it. From the kitchen." Caddy hesitated, and Henrik waited for more. "During the wedding."

Henrik set his jaw, and there was silence for several seconds.  
"I do not like being stolen from, Cadmus." Caddy moved to protest, but a sidelong look from Henrik quieted him. "Nor do I like deceit."  
Henrik turned to stare at Cadmus, his gaze intently focused on the young man.  
"Where did you get the magazines?"  
Caddy looked away, and his answer was barely above a whisper.  
"I found them." Henrik waited. After some hesitation, Caddy added, "In Anders' room. They were in a box of books he said he was going to throw away."  
Henrik's jaw twitched again and he raised his chin.  
"Anders had you in his room?"  
It only took Caddy half a second to make his decision about how he would answer that.  
"No. I snuck downstairs."  
Henrik turned and looked into his eyes for a brief moment.  
"I see."  
"Please don't tell him." Caddy looked up at Henrik, beseechingly. "Please?"  
Henrik shook his head.  
"I won't abide dishonesty, Cadmus." Henrik exhaled, and Caddy felt sick. "I think you owe him an apology."  
Caddy felt tears beginning to well up in his eyes. It had only been two weeks, and already he was going to be a pariah in his own house. He wished his mom was here. He wished his dad was here. He wished he had his old life back.

Henrik had turned away from him, and was looking out at the passing road.  
"How much did you sell your contraband for, Cadmus?"  
Caddy wasn't sure whether he should answer that, but thought of his stepfather's earlier praise. Perhaps it showed good business sense?  
"Two dollars for the vodka. Three for a magazine."  
Henrik nodded as he watched the landscape pass them by.  
"Doesn't quite seem worth it."

~

"You will finish the school year here, at home. Your father Phidias will reduce his work duties in order to tutor you. I will assist."  
Caddy stopped where he was and gaped at Henrik.  
"But that's not fair! Dad just got to go back to work - "  
"And now he'll come back home."  
Caddy shook his head.  
"Henrik! That's **not fair**!"

Henrik stood quietly, seemingly unruffled by the yelling. Mr. Paul quietly stepped up beside them and took the older man's briefcase, removing it to the study and leaving the two of them alone in the hall.

"You can't do that to my dad! His job is important to him! It's not just a job for him; it's basically who he is!"  
Henrik raised an eyebrow.  
"I know your father well, Cadmus."  
Caddy shook his head in disbelief.   
"So why would you do that to him? Make him tutor me?? He doesn't want to tutor me! He wants to do his job! That **isn't fair**!"  
Henrik stared at him evenly.  
"You're right, Cadmus. It isn't fair. It isn't fair that your careless behavior has harmed the people you love. Perhaps in the future, you'll consider that when you think about the choices you make."  
"But you - "  
Henrik shook his head.  
"The discussion of that issue is over, Cadmus. There are consequences for your behavior, for all of us. Until further notice, there will be no riding, no leaving the house without permission, no television, books, or films that I have not personally approved, and for the next two weeks, you will not be attending any of the CEC's social events."

Caddy just shrugged, too miserable to care. He just wanted to go to his room alone. Everything was awful, and it only kept getting worse. No CEC? He would be home-schooled? Even when it had sucked, at least it was something to do during the days. Now he would have even fewer friends than he'd had before. He would be even more alone.

Henrik turned to face him.  
"Is all of that clear to you, Cadmus?"  
Caddy shrugged. Henrik narrowed his eyes.  
"Yes, Henrik. It's clear."  
"After two weeks, you will be allowed out on a probationary basis. At the conclusion of the school year, you will spend the summer being intensively tutored to prepare for fall entrance to a private carriers' school. Is that understood?"  
Caddy stared at his shoes.  
"Yes, Henrik."  
Henrik stared at him for a long moment.  
"Do you have any questions for me, Cadmus?"  
Caddy shook his head. Henrik paused, then leaned down to be close to the young man's face.  
"If you have questions, I suggest you ask them now. Because I assure you, Cadmus," he said, his voice slow and deliberate. "You will not want to make the same mistake again."


	29. May 15

Phidias woke, early in the morning, to Henrik's insistent hands pushing his thighs apart. Confusion set in, as it always did, before understanding, and he tried to push the hands away. Henrik put them back, more firmly this time, and by then Phidias was awake enough to remember not to fight.

Henrik kissed him, quickly, and then lifted himself and settled into position between Phidias' spread legs. He was inside quickly, wrapping Phidias' legs around his waist to give him unobstructed access, thrusting rapidly into his mate's opening. Phidias put one hand on his shoulder, squeezing when Henrik entered him too roughly, or too deeply.   
Henrik was careless in the mornings, Phidias noted - blindly focused on having his need satisfied in full. His touch was not the haphazardness of drink, but he was brisk, businesslike, almost unconcerned for his partner's experience. Phidias wondered if he had ever been like this with Emily. His thoughts began to drift to her, but here halted abruptly when Henrik went into him at an odd angle and he protested with a hiss. Henrik retreated a little and cooed an apology, then moved in closer, pressing his hips flush to Phidias, his cock buried deeply inside of him. Henrik resumed thrusting from the new position, tight up against the V of Phidias' spread legs, and quickened his pace; distractedly, Phidias realized his husband was close to cumming.

In moments, Henrik grunted out his orgasm, grinding his hips against Phidias, pressing deep enough to make his partner wince, just slightly. Phidias wiggled backwards just a few centimeters, wanting relief, but the rush of heat inside of him that accompanied Henrik's cum was surprisingly pleasurable, and Phidias languored in it.

After the feeling faded, Phidias looked up at his husband - Henrik was balanced, eyes closed, body flushed, breath coming in pants, above him. Not for the first time, Phidias was struck with how handsome Henrik was, the markers of age that greyed his hair and lined his face seeming to add a magnificence to his appearance.   
Henrik collected himself and opened his eyes to meet Phidias'.   
"Stay. Twenty minutes."  
His accent was thick again. Phidias nodded and looked away, to the clock by the bed. With a smooth engagement of motion, Henrik lifted himself off of Phidias and collapsed prone in the bed beside him. After a minute, he snaked one arm out to rest on Phidias' stomach, just in case.

Awake now, Phidias stared at the ceiling first, then leaned up to look at Henrik. Beside him, his husband appeared to be dozing; his shoulders lifted slightly with each breath, then fell again. His hair stuck up in odd patches from where he'd been sleeping. Even in sleep, he seemed tense; alert. Phidias wondered what Henrik would have been like as a young man. He counted the years back in his head. At twenty...Phidias would have been seven or eight, at best. When Phidias was twenty, Henrik would have been about thirty-three. When he had married Emily and had Cadmus, Henrik would have been almost forty.

The thought of Cadmus sparked a wave of emotions inside of him - guilt, anguish, irritation, fear. On Friday, when he had come home later than he'd thought and Henrik had been - not angry, just...determined. No more late evenings. You'll be home before 4. And only one day a week - Cadmus needs you to tutor him. Phidias laid on his back in the dark and put himself back in that moment. He had been surprised and angry, but also deeply, deeply relieved. Relieved to have a reason not to go back to that cold, cramped office under lock and key. Relieved not to have to go back to the barred windows and the short shelves and all the things that reminded him not only of how far off he was from his previous life, but also how deep he was into his new one.

He thanked God he had never treated Emily like that. He couldn't imagine it now, looking back. She had always been so strong - brought so much order to their lives. He couldn't have locked her up if he'd tried. Not that he'd ever wanted to. Not that they had ever lived together in a world where he would have to. He looked over at Henrik again. Who had Henrik loved before him, he wondered? If Henrik even loved him now. Love was tricky. A thought suddenly struck him, surprising only in the fact that he hadn't had it previously. Had Henrik been in love before? Had he been married before?

He looked over at the man beside him in bed. Henrik had a son, after all - Anders. Were there other children? Perhaps he had had a wife at some point. But there was no mention of her, no pictures or apparent memories. His friends had not brought up a name. Perhaps she had died, a long time ago. Or perhaps she hadn't been a wife at all, only a tryst who had left Henrik with Anders, whom he loved regardless. Phidias' heart began to beat. Or what if something more sinister had taken place? What if she had disappeared? Or been killed. Phidias felt nauseous, suddenly. He really had no idea who the man in his bed was, at all. The nausea rose. Henrik could be anyone - any monster or saint or unlikely beast. As if sensing his husband's tension, Henrik shifted in the bed, his arm tightening around Phidias. Phidias stared at it. His stomach roiled. He needed to get up, get out of this bed. Nervously, he tapped his husband's arm.  
"Henrik."   
Henrik grunted, but didn't move.  
"Henrik, I need to get up."  
The response from the pillow was muffled.  
"Eighteen minutes."  
Phidias hesitated.  
"I'm going to be sick."  
Henrik released him immediately, then turned over and lifted his head to watch with concern as Phidias got up and darted off into their bathroom.

In a few minutes, a knock sounded gently at the bathroom door. Henrik's voice filtered in.  
"Are you alright?"  
Phidias nodded from where he was sitting on the side of the large bathtub, then felt silly for nodding when there was no one in the room. He cleared his throat. His head felt weird.  
"Yes. I'm just...tired."  
There was a pause.  
"Are you sick?"  
Phidias shook his head. Henrik wasn't trying to come in and check on him, he realized. He wondered why not.  
"No."  
Henrik paused again.  
"I'm going to go for a swim."  
Henrik hadn't swum since the wedding. He must be missing it. Phidias waited for the sound of footsteps turning to leave. Henrik lingered by the door.   
"Would you like to come?" his voice was sudden, uncertain.   
Phidias contemplated it.  
"OK." he decided, finally. "I'll be out in a minute."

~:~

"Kylie! Joshua! Are you going to pay attention, or are you just going to play around?"  
June Wick planted an irritated hand on one hip and swiveled around to regard the two young carriers. Adrian glanced over his shoulder and saw that although both boys were looking suitably abashed, they were also sending amused glances to each other. Adrian thought of his old job at the Centre and felt a pang of nostalgia. June exhaled in frustration.   
"I mean, I simply do not have an afternoon to waste trying to teach you two if you're not willing to learn!"

Kylie ducked his head and nodded. Beside him, Josh bit his lip hard to keep from giggling. Adrian, sensing June was close to breaking, slapped his notebook shut and slipped his pen in between the binder rings.  
"It's OK, Mrs. Wick. I can take it from here."  
June looked at Adrian like he'd just brought Christmas.  
"Are you sure, Adie?"  
Adrian nodded.  
"Yes, absolutely. I know you've probably got a lot of other work to do, so go ahead."  
June gave Adrian a grateful smile and stood to leave. At the door, he paused and turned back.  
"You know, if these two give you trouble - "  
Adrian raised a hand to cut him off.  
"I'm sure we'll be fine."  
June gave Adrian a skeptical look, but without further prodding, disappeared through the door.  
Adrian looked at the boys.  
"There is no reason for you to treat June like that."

Josh burst into laughter, but Kylie just smirked and shrugged.  
"It's not our fault - it's just...what he was teaching us." Kylie leaned forward and flicked the cover of the book in Adrian's lap. "I mean, The Rules of Carrier Etiquette? Seriously? This stuff is old. And it isn't even relevant."  
Adrian folded his arms across his chest and gave the pair a withering glare.  
"I happened to recommend this book. We read it at the Centre. What makes you think it's not relevant?"  
Josh finally managed to control himself enough to speak.  
"Because it's not real! It's just...decoration."  
Adrian tilted his head and frowned.  
"What makes you think it's not real?"  
Kylie rolled his eyes.  
"Come on, Adrian. We're not stupid, you know."  
Josh nodded and leaned forward.  
"Yeah. You don't have to be all Good Carrier with us. Besides, if you really want us to make us into good little carriers - "  
"That's not what this class is about!" Adrian answered, defensively. "It's not about making you into anything! It's intended to help you manage the transition into being carriers easily, so that - "  
"Yeah, yeah, we know." Josh made a dismissive hand motion. "Cross your legs, wear a natori, don't talk back, wake up early, obey your father, obey your husband, obey Dothan, get married, get pregnant, and don't ever leave. That's pretty much it, right?" Josh laughed sharply at Adrian's unimpressed face, then leaned a little closer, his voice lowering conspiratorially. "All we're saying is, if you really want to teach us something, then tell us something we don't know."

Adrian looked suspiciously between the two teenagers in front of him.  
"Something you don't know."  
Josh grinned and bounced on the balls of his feet, rocking his chair backwards.  
"Yeah! You know. Something interesting. Something scandalous!"  
Adrian blinked at him.  
"I don't know anything scandalous."  
Kylie looked surprised, then disbelieving.  
"But what about you and Sean?" Adrian sat back, surprised. Kylie and Josh exchanged looks, then Kylie added, "Tell us why you ran away."  
Adrian looked at Kylie and his heart caught briefly in his throat. He remembered this kid in diapers, and now suddenly here he was, in long hair and a natori, asking to be told love stories in the library at Carrier House. It didn't seem right, somehow, or fair. It seemed like something had been skipped.   
"I - I didn't - "  
"Was it because of us?" Josh asked, his interjection sudden and demanding. "Was it because of Dothan?"  
Adrian couldn't answer that. Kylie was staring into his eyes; Adrian averted them.  
"Did somebody hurt you, Adrian?"  
Adrian shook his head furiously.  
"No. Nobody hurt me." he shook his head again, caught in a wave of memory.  
"Did you love Sean before you left?" Kylie asked, his face screwed up in a curious expression. The question caught Adrian by surprise, and he nodded, the truth coming so clearly through him that it was painful.  
"I did. I loved him very much."  
"So why'd you leave?" Josh was resting his elbows on his knees now, listening intently. "Why'd you run away?"  
Adrian shook his head helplessly.  
"It wasn't any one thing, Josh. There - there was no single reason. I just...I just had to do it."  
Josh sat back, his face looking both resigned and disappointed. Kylie looked over at his friend, then at Adrian.  
"Do you think we're going to want to run away, too?"  
Adrian looked at the book, then at his hands, then up at Kylie's face. He remembered himself at that age. Remembered what he'd thought, what he'd felt. What he hadn't. Rebellion, which had quieted so much over the past months that it was barely a whisper, spoke inside of him again. Evenly, he looked Kylie in the face.  
"I don't know, Kylie. But I hope so."

~:~

James stared at the pamphlet in his hands. For twenty seconds, he didn't breathe. He didn't breathe; his heart did not beat; his blood froze in place. Everything in the world went quiet.   
Harley wanted to cut him.  
Even when he could take in air again, it didn't taste right; it tasted coppery, and after a minute, he realized he'd bitten his lip bloody. Hadn't felt the pain. Had only felt fear.  
Wellspring Carrier Rehabilitation Facility.   
Special Procedures.  
Carrier Completion Options.

 _Here at Wellspring, we take great care with your carrier. We work with you to create an individualized package of procedures..._  
James skimmed down the page.  
 _...importance of aesthetics....health and safety of your beloved....have the carrier you wish you had....private postsurgery therapy center.....seven optional procedures.....reconstruction, labial augmentation or reduction, vaginal sculpturing, male organ removal....effect reported in less than 37% of patients...._

Harley wanted to fucking cut him.  
James felt cold, then hot. He felt like he was shivering, but he wasn't sure.   
Harley wanted to cut him.  
Harley wanted to put him on the chopping block like a goddamn gelding, he wanted to -   
"What are you doing?"

James sucked in another fear-breath and jerked backwards, trying to press himself against the wall in defense. Harley was standing in the doorway.  
He had his suit jacket slung over one shoulder. He dropped it onto a chair.  
He looked innocuous.  
James squeezed the pamphlet in his hand.  
"You want to cut me."

Harley paused, his right hand on the buttons of his left shirt cuff.  
"What are you talking about?"  
James shoved the pamphlet forward. His hand was shaking.  
"You want to cut me?!" his voice was taking on a hysterical edge. Harley flicked his eyes down to the pamphlet, then up to James. There was silence in the room. Harley stared at him, and James prepared for a fight. But it didn't come; there was no belligerence in Harley's face, only...something that looked like abashment. Harley shifted his gaze to the buttons on the cuff, working at them intently.  
"They said it would help your behavior." the answer was almost mumbled. James' arm was shaking with the effort of holding up the pamphlet. He dropped it onto the bed, far enough to be within his reach.

"So you want to cut me." James stared at his husband, then at the bed. "You hate me that much, that you want to cut me."  
Harley shook his head, still focused on the cuffs.  
"I don't hate you. I don't. You're my wife. I just want to help you change your behavior - "  
"By cutting me. By chopping me up. OK. That helps. That helps a lot, you sick fucking psycho."  
James sat down on the bed and drew his knees up against his chest. Harley shook his head.  
"They said that residual testosterone can sometimes appear when the organ is still present, and - "  
" _FUCK YOU, HARLEY!_ " James screamed, cutting him off. "Fuck you, and fuck your **butcher** doctors." He felt like crying. He sucked in two irregular breaths and held it together.   
Harley shook his head again.  
"They said it would stop you from acting so...male. That it would stop these urges you have, and - and help you to fit your new role, and it could be better for the baby, and - "  
"BULLSHIT, Harley, **bullshit**! ' _Acting male_ ' - WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?!"

Harley pinched his lips together and focused on rolling his left sleeve up to his elbow.  
"It means cheating on me."  
James stared at him, momentarily silenced.  
"I'm not cheating on you." he answered, quickly.  
Harley shook his head. His voice was low.  
"Carriers shouldn't lie."  
James came forward on the bed, kneeling to look up at Harley.  
"I'm not cheating on you."  
Harley began working on the other sleeve.  
"OK, James. Whatever you say."  
James scooted closer on the bed, crumpling the pamphlet under one foot.  
"HARLEY! I'm not - I never cheated on you!"  
"I SAW YOU, James."  
James drew his shoulders up and pulled back.  
"There was nothing to see."  
"You kissed him. You were kissing him. Before I walked in."  
James stared at his husband.  
"No, I wasn't."  
Harley was spending just the same kind of intense focus on this sleeve as the other.  
"I saw you." he repeated, albeit more quietly. Then, after a minute: "He wasn't the first."  
James shook his head.  
"You've got it all wrong, Harl. You do. I never cheated on you."  
Harley rolled his sleeve up his forearm.  
"OK."  
James narrowed his eyes.  
"So you've just already decided, haven't you?"  
"He's the only person in the house."  
"So?"  
"Sometimes I think you just can't help yourself."  
The corner of James' lip lifted just slightly in a snarl. The fear was gone now, trodden over completely by anger.  
"I never touched him."

Harley scoffed and kicked at the carpet, then looked up suddenly, his face challenging.  
"Does he even know who you are, James? Does he know what you did to the other ones? Or does he still think that he's special?"  
James lost himself utterly in just that moment, and he propelled himself off of the bed and towards Harley, who dodged the lunge just in time. James slid into the wall and snapped around, still enraged. Seething, he got to his feet and faced off his husband.  
"Sheridan _is_ special."  
Harley laughed, scornfully.  
"Right."  
"He's different. I'm different. This is different." then, after a pause, he added, "It's not going to happen again. I can control it."

Harley didn't answer; his body was tense, his hands clenched into fists, and he was bracing himself for a fight. He was watching James; his eyes darted to the crumpled piece of pamphlet on the bed. James followed his eyes to the bed, then looked back at Harley. Then he straightened his back, brushed himself off with great dignity, and regarded Harley coolly.  
"Harley," he said, his voice saccharine-sweet and dripping with threat, "If I ever find a pamphlet like that again, I will cut this child out of me with a goddamn kitchen knife." Harley gaped at him. James, still staring, got up and walked rigidly to the door, where he paused and looked back. "Try me and see."


	30. May 20

"Cadmus wants to have his ears pierced."  
Phidias looked up in bewilderment from the journal he was poring over.  
"What? Why?"  
Henrik shrugged casually, waving his fork around over the papers in front of him.  
"It is common, I believe, for the young carriers."  
Phidias blinked at his husband. Henrik seemed unperturbed.  
"Should - should we let him?"  
Henrik shrugged.  
"I don't disagree with it, if it is what he wants." he picked around at the spinach on his plate and took a bite of fish. "I think it's good that he embraces what he is."

Henrik looked over at Phidias and seemed to be expecting some kind of a response to this. Phidias looked down at his journal.  
"Yes."  
Henrik slid a neutral look over him.  
"You disagree."  
"I don't - " Phidias shook his head, "I don't, it's just...difficult sometimes, to reframe him in my head. It was only last year that I was raising a - a - " Phidias frowned, struggling to find the right word. Henrik chewed a bite of fish, then suggested:  
"A not-a-carrier?"  
Phidias nodded.  
"Yeah. Not a carrier. Sometimes I forget."

Henrik put down his fork and reached out for Phidias' hand suddenly, and Phid gave it to him. They sat like that for a moment, hands clasped together, both staring up at the sky over the patio, each thinking of the other.

At length, Henrik interrupted their silence.  
"It is alright with me. However, Cadmus is still in a probationary period because of his recent behavior. He may have his ears done after he passes his entry exams for school in the fall." A beat passed. Henrik looked over at Phidias. "Does that sound fair to you?"  
Phidias looked up, vaguely surprised.   
Did Henrik want his input? Why? Wasn't it Henrik's job to make the rules? The question didn't seem to fit; it sounded wrong. Phidias suddenly felt uncomfortable.  
"Yeah. I mean, I think. I guess that sounds fair. If he wants to do it."  
Henrik inclined his head.  
"If he wants to do it, then."

~

Phidias woke up from an unintentional evening nap wanting sweets and, for some odd reason, a swim. He sat up in bed; the room was empty, but he could hear voices in the hall. He listened closely. It sounded like Henrik. There was no responder. He must be on the phone, then.

Phidias threw the covers off and got out of bed. Maybe dinner was ready, or maybe there were desserts left down in the kitchen. He had been in such a rush the past few days that he hadn't really been in there; it had become Mr. Paul's domain completely. But Henrik would know what they had. The bedroom door was sitting ajar, and Phidias squeezed through the space and padded down the hall. Henrik's voice got louder as Phidias went, and he followed it towards the upstairs study.

The door to that, too, was slightly open. Suddenly compelled by something - intuition, curiosity, meddlesomeness - Phidias paused by the frame. He heard his name. His heart beat faster. Was Henrik talking about him? His voice was low, hushed but not anxious.  
"I think so. He is tiring frequently. He has been eating more, and requesting strange things."  
There was a pause as the person on the line responded.  
"Yesterday, he demanded to go for a walk. I asked him to wait an hour, and he got very emotional about it."  
Phidias frowned; he didn't like being discussed in such crass terms. Demanded? Emotional? Besides, neither thing was true. He had asked nicely. In retrospect, it had seemed unusually painful to him that Henrik had said no.

In the room, Henrik laughed quietly.  
"Yes. No. No, he's sleeping now. Tell Mahir to call him later."  
There was another pause.  
"Yes, I'm very excited, too. Of course I know what it means."  
A short pause. Laughter.  
"I promise I'll take good care of him. Swear."  
Some rustling as Henrik moved papers.  
"I have to give him _everything_ that he asks for?"   
A joking tone.  
"Alright. Just four-fifths of everything, then."  
Phidias smiled. Then there was a longer pause, and as abruptly as if someone had thrown open a window, a cold tone blew into Henrik's voice. Phidias heard the leather of the chair squeak as Henrik shifted position.  
"Anthony. I've said before. I understand the stakes. It is my experiment, too."

Phidias froze. What? Henrik was making a sound of assent now. The conversation might be closing. Phidias should get out of there; he wasn't sure if sneaking around and eavesdropping violated Henrik's rules, but they had gone three weeks now with no incidents. No need to break the streak. He turned to go, and only barely caught the last words of the conversation.  
"Alright. Very good. Love to you as well, brother. I will see you in Wafra."


	31. May 26

Josh began bleeding spontaneously during Friday morning prayers, and his father, upon noticing, rushed him out of the room and straight to Dr. Edmund J Alm.

"What's going on?"  
Edmund held his hands up, palms out, towards the agitated man.  
"It's his courses. Just his courses."  
Saul Jefferson shook his head.  
"Naw, there's too much blood on my son."  
Dr. Alm's assistant tried to calm him.  
"It looks worse than it is."

Josh began complaining that his stomach hurt, then his head. A terrible headache. And he was dizzy.   
Saul wanted to transport his son to the CEC.   
Let me look at him first, Dr. Alm had told him. I'm the boy's physician; I know his body better than anyone.  
Josh had been afraid, so incredibly afraid, but Dr. Alm had told him again and again:  
You are going to be fine.

~:~

"We should begin to pack tomorrow. All of us."  
Henrik Angstrom looked around the breakfast table at his family. Phidias had a newspaper open and was so immersed in some article or the other that he barely heard Henrik's statement. Anders glanced up momentarily from where he was devouring a veal omelet, gave a short nod, and went back to eating. Only Caddy seemed to be listening to him. He was picking over some stewed apples and looking eagerly at Henrik.  
"For Wafra?"  
Henrik inclined his head.  
"For Wafra."  
Caddy's gaze drifted down to his plate.  
"How long will we stay there?"  
Henrik sipped his coffee.  
"Two weeks on business. Another week for leisure. Anders will return ten days before we do."  
Caddy chewed on a raw carrot stick.  
"Will there be stuff to do there?"  
Henrik grinned.  
"There will be plenty."  
Caddy brightened.  
"Really? Is there a city? Can we go into town?"  
Henrik frowned and set his mug down.  
"Perhaps this would be a good time to discuss the protocol I'll expect from you in Wafra."  
Caddy sighed.  
"Nevermind. I shouldn't have asked."  
Henrik tapped the table lightly to gather everyone's attention. When Phidias and Anders were both looking at him, he began.  
"Wafra. We must discuss behavior. Anders, you're already aware, somewhat, of what life is like in the Emirates." Anders gave a curt nod. "That means that you can act as a guide sometimes for Phidias and Cadmus, neither of whom have ever been."

Anders nodded again, his eyes fixed on his father as he spoke. Henrik turned his gaze on Phidias first.  
"You will both be asked to wear natoris, and your hair must be covered at all times. Law of the country, I'm afraid."  
Caddy made a face, but Phidias simply nodded his acknowledgment.  
"You'll go nowhere without an escort; either Anders, Anthony, Everett, myself, or Ghali, whom you will meet."  
Caddy looked distinctly unimpressed.  
"Wafra sounds worse than here."  
Henrik raised an eyebrow at him, but let the remark pass.  
"You'll have free reign of the house, but leaving the grounds unescorted will be strictly forbidden. Likewise, you'll have no visitors without approval. We'll take iris scans, retinal scans, vein maps, and fingerprints before we go. You'll wear identification bracelets at all times."

Henrik took a sip of his coffee again.  
"We'll have a driver there, same as here, but he will also act as a bodyguard. That means that you must both obey him and be constantly mindful. Is that clear?"  
Caddy glanced over at his father; Phidias' face was wrinkled in a look of worried concentration.  
"Why so much security?"  
Henrik smiled indulgently and reached out to smooth hair back from Phidias' face.  
"Because you are so important to me, of course."  
Phidias looked unconvinced.  
"And we're not important here?"  
Lines of tension appeared around Henrik's mouth.  
"Here is not there."  
"What's the difference?"  
Henrik's face grew hard.  
"The difference, Phidias, is that the desert is a dangerous place."

~:~

"So what have you got planned for this evening?"  
Aaron Soyinka asked, stirring cinnamon into his oatmeal.   
Harley glanced sharply up at James. Sheridan shrugged.  
"Nothing. Might watch a movie. Could invite some of the new people over, if that's OK."

A new government program, the Community Initiative, had brought changes to the neighborhood. Single officers and small families had been moved out. Young couples and homes with carriers had been moved in, and the area had been gated. Six new families lived on their block alone.

Soyinka tilted his head.  
"Can't see why not. But be careful. Only carriers, and their men must bring them to the door. I don't want anybody walking alone."  
Sheridan nodded and poured juice into a glass.  
"OK, no problem."  
Harley frowned and spoke up suddenly.  
"I don't think that's a good idea."  
This earned him a surprised but interested look from Soyinka.  
"It shouldn't be dangerous. The security is strong now, and the carriers - "  
"But Sheridan will be here alone; it doesn't seem safe for people to know that."  
Soyinka frowned.  
"James will be here, too. They'll be together. They can look after each other."  
Harley's hand flexed slightly around his fork. He took a sip of his coffee.  
"James, I thought you had a doctor's appointment tomorrow, babe." Harley did his best to keep the tension out of his voice, but the words came out a little too rushed to sound normal. "I thought you were getting picked up by the Centre."  
James bit into a slice of bacon.  
"Nope. Funny thing. They made me reschedule."  
Harley met his eyes, briefly. James held his gaze and took another bite.  
"I thought you said you could control it." Harley said, then paused. "The dates of your appointments."   
James shrugged nonchalantly.  
"Doctor's sick." he grinned at Sheridan. "So me and Sher get the whole weekend together."  
Soyinka smiled peacefully.  
"See? They'll have fun together. It's fine."  
"I'll be back Sunday morning." Harley pronounced suddenly, sharply. "And Aaron will be back Sunday night." he looked directly at James and took another sip of his coffee. "Just so you know, Jamie-love. So you won't worry." he looked meaningfully at his spouse. "We won't be gone long."

~

"Whoa! Hey." Sheridan stepped out of his evening shower and almost tripped over James, who was kneeling over the toilet. Sher pulled his towel tighter around his hips and knelt down beside his friend.  
"Hey. Are you OK?"  
James nodded, not looking at Sheridan.  
"Yeah. Yeah. Just don't feel great."  
Sheridan rubbed his friend's back.   
"I'm sorry. Can you get up? Come on. I'll put you in bed."  
James hesitated, but went along with it when Sheridan pulled him to his feet and led him by his arm through the door that adjoined he and Harley's bedroom to the bath.

"Here we go."  
Sheridan pulled back the sheets and blanket and encouraged James into the bed. When he was settled, Sheridan sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed his shoulder through the blanket.  
"I can bring you something to settle your stomach, if you want."  
James shook his head.  
"No, it's - I'm fine."  
Sheridan furrowed his brow.  
"It's just normal sickness?"  
James nodded, then stopped and shook his head. Tears began to spill out of his eyes.  
"I don't - I don't know. Harley hit me."  
Sheridan tensed, but didn't stop his soothing touch to James' arm.  
"Where?"  
James captured a trembling lip between his teeth.  
"In the stomach."  
Sheridan sucked in a breath.  
"Shit. Why?"  
James looked away and bit his lip.  
"He was angry. He thinks I'm - " James took a slow breath in. "He thinks I'm cheating on him, but I'm not. I'm not, Sher, you know I'm not!"  
Sheridan nodded and kept his voice even, but his eyes brightened with fear.  
"I know, Jamie. I know."  
"He thinks it's with you." James added quietly. Sheridan exhaled sharply, understanding.  
"He saw you kiss me."  
James nodded miserably, tears flowing freely now.  
"I'm sorry, Sher. I'm so sorry."  
Sheridan shook his head and patted James to try to calm him.  
"It's OK. It's OK. It was just a little mistake. It's fine. It's fine now. Hush, OK? Do you want to call the doctor?"  
James shook his head.  
"He'll say I'm fine. He'll say I'm just overreacting. And I just - I can't have anyone know." James whispered, scrubbing at his eyes with the heels of his hands then looked hopefully up at Sheridan.  
"I'm sorry about the kiss, Sheridan. You forgive me?"  
Sheridan gave James an exasperated look.   
"Of course I forgive you. You're my James. I love you."  
James half-smiled.  
"Will you always forgive me?"  
Sheridan nodded, resolutely.  
"I will always forgive you."  
James pulled one hand out from underneath the blanket and squeezed Sheridan's wrist.  
"Thank you. I needed to know that."  
Touched, Sheridan smiled.

~:~

"It ain't right." Saul Jefferson turned from the window to face William Mackenzie. "It ain't right, Will. I jus' know it."  
There was a moment of tense silence; the situation was one which had to be dealt with delicately. Will Mackenzie stepped forward.  
"Listen, I know you're in a lot of pain right now, Saul. Pain that I can't even imagine. But Ed did all he could; he - "  
"No!"

Saul Jefferson's voice had a slip of anger in it now.   
"No," he whipped around suddenly, came rushing across the room to stand in front of Will. His shoulders heaved with the effort of breathing. "I never said he didn't. I never said that. I know in my head that Doc did everything he could. But I also know my son is gone, and I also know in my heart that it ain't right. I know that, too, Will."  
Saul tapped his chest with one trembling hand.  
"I know it ain't right."

~

Will Mackenzie returned just before midnight to a dark house. He let himself in through the kitchen; movement signaled a presence, and his wife's form revealed itself in the dark. Will stopped; stood there, exhausted from arguing, in the dark and waited. Ren spoke.  
"Is Saul going to call them?"  
Will Mackenzie's voice was thick, and low.  
"I think so."  
Ren squeezed his mug of tea between his hands. A too-long silence passed.  
"So what are we going to do?"  
Will shoved his hands in his pockets, turned halfway so that his profile was illuminated by the light filtering in from the back windows.  
"If they come...one body is better than two."  
In the dark, Ren felt fear, but also relief. Then function, as always, took over. The twelfth law. Ren looked up at his husband.  
"What do we need to hide?"  
Will Mackenzie considered the impossibility of this, of the undertaking that lay before them.  
"Everything."


	32. May 27 [Saturday]

Saul Jefferson had called the CEC the night before to come and examine the body of his dead carrier son.   
He suspected something - what, he wasn't sure, but he know that something just seemed _off_.  
It hadn't taken the medical team long to realize that Joshua Jefferson hadn't died of complications from the Change - he had died of a miscarriage.  
They took blood back to the lab.

An induced miscarriage.

Saul Jefferson had spent the better part of the night being questioned in a dank room on base, but in the end, he had known nothing, seen nothing, and had no idea who would have done this to his son.

On the other side of the two-way glass, the young Investigator knocked over a chair and slammed the door behind him.   
" _Fucking_ Dothan freaks! I swear that father knows something, I swear he fucking does."  
The unit supervisor looked up calmly from a stack of photographs laid out over the table.  
"Mac, the man passed the biometrics. He's not lying. Leave him alone."

The investigator stomped over to the window, looking out through the glass at Saul Jefferson, who had his head resting on his crossed arms on the table. The Investigator stared at Saul. Saul stared at nothing.

"Well, somebody knows something. Somebody's responsible." the younger man jabbed the table with one finger, his knuckles white from the effort of clenching his fists together. "And I want to know who."  
Still shivering with anger and indignation, he wandered back over to the two-way window that looked in on the silent, grieving father.   
"Fucking Dothan freaks." he said again, under his breath. "Goddamn cults."

~:~

Sheridan and James woke up late and decided to treat themselves to an elaborate breakfast. James did the omelette and sliced meats; Sheridan was assigned to pancakes, sliced fruit, and juice. They turned on the radio and bopped along to music as they passed by each other in the kitchen. Mornings were never this relaxed with Harley and Soyinka here; one or the other always had to be up early for a meeting, or a class, or to work out, or one of a million other reasons that made them grouchy and hungry.

Now, with just the two of them there, the morning could go along more slowly. Sheridan glanced over to see how James' first omelette was coming along, and caught sight of the man at the tail end of a rather wild dance to some old song on the radio. He sputtered laughter, and James stopped, getting a little red in the face before laughing and dancing more wildly, all over again. This time, he got Sheridan in on the act, and the two shared a half-minute of wild, spinning, glorious euphoria - a moment of no telephones, no assignments, no husbands, no obligations, nothing to be done or handled or cleaned or put away; just themselves and a little breakfast and a happy song on the radio.

Then James took Sheridan by the hand, twirled him around, and suddenly kissed him. The moment imploded in on itself.   
Sheridan pushed him away, harder than he'd intended.  
"Are you crazy?!"  
James just blinked at him for a second; his head was still caught up in the spinning, in the music and the dance.  
"I - I didn't - "  
Sheridan turned away, the back of one hand to his mouth.  
"Harley already thinks you're lying, and now you just want to go and put fuel on his fire."

Sheridan rubbed his hand over his mouth and turned back to James, who was standing in the middle of the kitchen looking forlorn. Sher sighed and wiped his hands on the apron he'd tied around his waist.  
"Listen, it's just - it's not a good idea, OK? Besides, I told you - we're friends." James just kept standing there, in the middle of the floor, staring as if in a trance. Sheridan frowned. "James? You hear me? I said we're friends."  
James came to life then, crossing his arms over his chest and turning his head away from Sher.  
"I didn't mean it like that." he muttered.  
There was a silence; an exposed moment when Sheridan could have called him on that lie, injured him deeply. He didn't.  
"OK. Well, still. We talked about this."  
James shrugged, suddenly petulant.  
"It was just a kiss."  
Sheridan ran a hand over his hair where it had been pulled up in a knot away from his face.  
"Well. Not to Harley."

James lifted his head and met Sheridan's eyes. Sheridan blinked. For less time than it had taken him to reason that he must be imagining it, James' face had looked different - it had...darkened somehow. Then the apparition passed and James was just James again, petulant and ever desirous of things he shouldn't have.  
"Harley's not here."  
Sheridan shook his head.  
"James. Please."  
James looked up at him, clear blue eyes meeting brown. He held Sheridan's gaze.  
"Fine. I'm sorry."

It came out so bitter that it kept the conversation from being over, and they both stood there for a minute, uncertain who should have the next say. Sheridan broke the stalemate first; they had both gotten distracted, and now the eggs were burning.

~:~

The Council had co-opted Will Mackenzie's study for the questioning. As the leader on disciplinary affairs, the responsibility fell to him anyway. Now he stood in the dimly lit room, dressed only white, save for the symbols of Dothan that were painted along his arms. The sixteen other members of the council sat behind him, in folding chairs. The compound's only doctor, Edmund J. Alm, sat alone in a desk chair in the front of the room. Electrodes along his arms and torso connected him to the metering machine, the heavy monster on wheels that stood to his left.

Will Mackenzie stood before the good doctor, his arms at his sides. He spoke slowly.  
"Tell us, Ed. You've got to. Tell us or we're all in trouble; you'll bring Dothan down."  
In the luxuriously large chair, the doctor was shaking, his hands trembling as he pushed his glasses up on his nose.  
"I don't - I can - there's - I haven't done anything, Will."  
Will Mackenzie shook his head ruefully.  
"The boy is dead, Edmund."  
"It wasn't my fault!"  
" _Joshua_ is dead, Edmund." Will repeated, voice firming up.  
"I know! I know!" the doctor's voice cracked. "But it wasn't my fault." his lip trembled. Will Mackenzie tilted his head.  
"Then whose fault was it, Ed?"  
Dr. Alm shook his head; tears were creeping down his plump cheeks now. He hung his head.  
"The gods. It was the Gods."


	33. June 1

They arrived in the desert three hours before sunup. The green rumbling ex-military aircraft set them down at a tiny airport in the north of the country. Caddy had slept most of the flight, and was still sleeping now. Phidias had dozed on and off, waking every now and then to catch glimpses of the ground from the window of the plane. Only Henrik had stayed awake for the entirety of the ride.

Wafra was so much more beautiful than Phidias had ever expected. He stepped down from the stairwell of the dingy old plane and into the blazing heat of the desert. The wind billowed in from the east, blowing the linen of his clothes and billowing his scarf. Sand kicked up around them, and Henrik took his hand, then Cadmus's, leading them both across the tarmac to their waiting cars.

Phidias glanced back behind himself once, to see the desert, but his scarf blew into his eyes and obscured his view. He had been here before. Or somewhere like it, at least. Years ago, his first research project abroad had taken him to the Sahel. He'd studied valuation and gender in a densely populated village north of the nearest city, far out into the dunes and shortgrass. He had seen women there, little moving dashes on the landscape, covered neck to feet, dressed in bright blues, reds, dark blacks and greys with their hair tied up in pretty scarves.   
At the time, he'd thought little of it - there had been the comfortable distance of academia between them, and other things of far more immediate import had filled his mind. Life had seemed so busy then; time so short. The streets had been more crowded, and he had always had to rush in the morning in order to get to his site for work. Life had always been such a rush in those days. But now, standing on the other end of that memory, time seemed to stretch on infinitely into the past.

Of course, that was before the plague had spread; those sweet, carefree days where the world still seemed to be in order. When women blustered past him in packs in the marketplace, blowing by in clouds of dust and fanciful cloth. When cities, towns had thrived. When Emily had been alive. When Phidias had lived another life.

Henrik came up behind him, taking his elbow in one strong hand to steer him out of his reverie.  
"Come on, Phidias. This way."  
Phidias was directed towards a silvery-gold town car, idling on the runway between three identical others. He looked at them, then at his husband.  
"Who else is coming in?"  
Henrik glanced up, worriedly at the sky, for a moment, then his face relaxed.   
"Oh. No one. These cars are for us."  
Phidias looked at him curiously.  
"We're each taking one?"  
Henrik shook his head and opened the side door for Phidias and Caddy to get in.  
"One for us. One for our things. Two for decoys."

~

The estate at Wafra was magnificent. Neither Henrik's pictures nor his descriptions had done it justice. Clustered together around an oasis, six spectacular buildings rose up out of the desert. They looked like palaces, Phidias thought, and wondered then if that made him a princess. He laughed out loud, making Henrik look at him strangely before going back to watching the road.

The caravan of silvery cars headed up a long path that led off of the main desert highway towards the houses. Phidias leaned closer to look out the windows and tried to take in all the detail. The six houses of Wafra were in the 19th century Spanish style, with a heavy Moorish influence and significant borrowing from neoclassicism. The buildings were set in a hexagon, with the central one standing taller than the rest; Phidias knew immediately, from years of anthropological experience, that this was probably the house that the chief lived in. Phidias looked at it, trying to puzzle out who the Big Man of Wafra might be.  
"Anthony and Mahir live in the main house. Everett and Tyson, as well."  
So much for mystery.  
Phidias squinted across the land at the main house, hoping to catch a glimpse of a familiar face in a doorway, or a window perhaps.

"Over there," Henrik pointed to the building directly adjacent to the main one, on the far side from the entrance, "is our home."  
Caddy, who had spent most of the ride fiddling with the cloth covering his hair, looked up, caught sight of Wafra, and gasped.  
"Wow! It's freaking beautiful!" he squeaked, pressing his nose against the window that Henrik had forbidden him to roll down. "It's even more gorgeous than your Union house, Henrik!"   
Henrik smirked, pleased with Caddy's delighted reaction.  
" _Our_ Union house." he corrected. Caddy nodded dumbly and continued to stare. "Denis and Josef live there with us. Although they are in the country only rarely - they prefer the climate at home, I suppose."  
Caddy nodded again. Suddenly, he whipped around to face Henrik, his eyes already in full puppy-dog mode.  
"Do I get to pick my own room?!"  
Henrik frowned, but Phidias squeezed his hand and he exhaled and simply raised an eyebrow.  
"You may have any room in the upper living suites, excluding ours and Anders'."  
Caddy's grin got even wider.  
"Yes! Thank you, Henrik!"

Phidias grinned and Henrik leaned over to kiss him. The car began to slow to a stop, and as it did, the front doors of the main house blew open and Mahir emerged, smiling to greet them.

~:~

Saul Jefferson's body was uncovered in a shallow grave off of Highway 6, 1500 miles from the base which was his last known location.

Identifiable pieces of Dr. Edmund J. Alm's body were recovered from a river 150 miles from the Dothan compound of Woodacre.

Neither crime had any witnesses.


	34. June 3 [Saturday]

Henrik was woken in the middle of the night by a cold bed. He sat bolt upright, thoughts tearing through his mind at incredible speeds, some horrifying, some disturbing, some frightening. Where was his wife? Henrik's eyes adjusted quickly to the low moonlight; in this room, any light source bounced around, reflected on the polished marble and the gilded trimmings of the room and made it seem brighter. After a second, he was able to distinguish a light coming down the short hall that led to the bathroom. He padded barefoot across the cold floors. Closer, he was able to distinguish the sound of voices - worry rose up again and he considered going back for a weapon, but pressed on. A few yards further and he was able to clearly hear the sound of Phidias, mumbling to himself.

Henrik knocked gently, then pushed the large white door to the side. Phidias was sitting on the ground, his palms pressed flat to the floor, his knees drawn up to his chest. Wearing only a tshirt and his underwear, his skin still shone with sweat. He looked pitifully up at Henrik.

"I threw up again." Phidias looked back down at his palms, still pressed tight to the floor as if he were holding it in place. "I don't know what's wrong with me."  
Phidias sounded so plaintive that Henrik's heart melted a little. He gave a wan half-smile to his carrier wife.  
"I think you might be pregnant, Phidias."  
Phidias's eyebrows pressed together in an expression of confusion, or worry, or resignation.  
"I think I might be, too."

~

Henrik led him down the front stairs through to the adjoining parlor that separated their home from the main house, holding his hand the entire way.  
"Come. Mahir always has food in their kitchen."  
They padded across cool floors and silky rugs, turning on as few lights as possible.

Almost at the kitchen, Henrik stopped. Phidias, who had not been paying attention at all, almost crashed into him.   
Henrik tilted his head, the curious affectation that he used to represent alertness. He peered forward through the slanted light of a far-behind lamp, then spoke over his shoulder at Phidias.  
"Someone is awake." Henrik released his hand, then squeezed his wrist. Phidias stayed where he was. Henrik disappeared around a curve in the hall, then reappeared moments later, smiling.  
"It's alright, Phidias. Come. Anders has arrived."

~

In the kitchen, Anders was seated at the wide chopping island with a young man who Phidias did not recognize. Immediately self-conscious, he touched a hand to his hair, then his shirt, pulling it down where it had ridden up over his stomach.  
Henrik waved a dismissive hand.  
"It's fine, Phidias. Ghali is family."

Phidias looked over the young man. Ghali had dark hair, almost shorn completely, and a quick, light way to him. He was slim, almost bony in places, and his features were alert, but had the guarded caution that Phidias usually associated with orphans and the street kids he'd seen in the major cities. He had only the barest hint of stubble growing in, but the wiry muscles in his forearms and the shading under his eyes made Phidias suspect that he might be older than he looked.

Ghali, who was engrossed in a plate of food in front of him, waved with a spoon at Phidias. Anders grinned and raised his head.  
"Hey, Mom."  
It took Phidias a minute to understand that Anders was speaking to him.  
"Hey." he managed from a hoarse throat.   
Anders flicked his eyes over him.   
"Are you OK?"  
Henrik interrupted.  
"Phidias is fine, Anders. He is just a little worn out from the journey, and very hungry and tired. Ghali, what are you eating?"  
Ghali raised his head and spoke around a mouthful.  
"Kapsa."  
Henrik grunted.  
"Your mother's?"  
Ghali nodded, then caught himself.  
"Na'am, sayiddi." he answered, again around a mouthful.   
"Is there any more?"  
Anders scoffed.  
"No. You forget, Dad - Ghali's midnight snacks are full meals. He finished it." Anders gave Ghali a teasing shove, and the smaller youth yelped an incoherent scolding. Anders laughed, then said something softly to him in a language that Phidias didn't understand. Ghali flicked his eyes up to Anders, briefly, then down, shyly.   
"No." he answered, quietly, in English, then pushed his plate away and abruptly left the kitchen.

Henrik turned from the refrigerator and looked questioningly at Anders. Anders raised his hands in a gesture of bewilderment, and Henrik set down the two dishes he was holding and gestured to Phidias.  
"Anders, help him." Then he disappeared out after the other boy.

Anders dutifully retrieved two plates and cutlery for his parents, bustling around the kitchen. Phidias watched him, noticing the tension that had developed in his face since Ghali had left.  
"I don't think it was what you said."  
Anders jerked around to look at Phidias.  
"What?"  
Phidias indicated the doorway.  
"Ghali. It wasn't you. I think maybe he's just having a bad day."  
Anders closed his eyes for a moment, as if bolstering himself.  
"Right. No, he's just... Ghali's weird sometimes."  
Phidias gave Anders a cheering smile.  
"Well. I'm sure it'll be OK."  
Anders gave a faltering smile in return.


	35. June 5

The CEC arrived in the middle of the day. William Mackenzie walked out across the grassy lawn to meet the jeeps. The Council had been expecting them.

They picked over everything like vultures; the accounts, the medical facilities, the receipts and licenses and building permits and structural assessments. Will Mackenzie watched it all.

At the end of the day, though, they found nothing - no evidence to indicate any foul play, no items out of place or names unaccounted for. Just three mysteriously dead Dothan and a community still living at the fringes of the world.

~:~

Caddy was sitting in the lush, green courtyard outside of the main house, playing chess with Mahir under one of the billowing white canopies. The afternoon sun that heated the tile around them, reflecting heat up from the ground, was cut significantly by the foliage and canopies, making at least one corner of the courtyard bearable.

Footsteps on the tile alerted them to the approach of a visitor. Mahir and Caddy both looked up to see Anders coming towards them. He was dressed in white pants and shirt, wearing calf-height boots and had a helmet tucked under one arm.  
Mahir scowled at him as he approached.   
"You're tracking sand through my courtyard."  
Anders sighed and dropped down into one of the lounge chairs beside Tyson, who was reading over a stack of papers.  
"Sorry, Uncle, I forgot. Afternoon, everyone." he inclined his head towards Caddy and Tyson, greeting each of them in turn.  
"So where have you been?" Caddy beamed at Anders, looking him over. "You're dressed weird."  
Anders laughed, set his helmet down on the ground and began unzipping his boots as he grinned up at Caddy.  
"Playing. With Ghali."  
Caddy's smile flickered.  
"Oh."

This change in demeanor did not escape Mahir, but he was too much of a gentleman to remark on it. Instead, he focused his attention on Anders.  
"No one got hurt, did they?" he asked off-handedly. Anders looked up at his uncle. They locked eyes. "While you were playing."   
Mahir placed a strange emphasis on the last word that made Anders tilted his head and glance to the side.  
"No, uncle. Nobody got hurt."  
Mahir did not remove his gaze.  
"Sometimes people can get hurt. In these games of yours."  
Anders lifted his chin, then looked away.  
"Yes, uncle. I know."  
"Sometimes people don't understand the rules." Tyson was listening now; his eyes flickered back and forth between Anders and Mahir. Anders' jaw tensed, but he said nothing. Mahir pressed further. "So just be careful, will you?"  
Face flushing red, Anders nodded.

Mahir kept his gaze on him for another moment, then turned back to the chess game, twirling one finger around the lip of the bishop.  
"And where is my son now?"  
Anders folded his hands together neatly.  
"Showering, I think."  
Mahir nodded.  
"Ah. Of course." there was a pause, and everyone waited for Mahir to say more. But, airily, he waved one hand in Anders' direction. "Well, I'll see you both at dinner then. Enjoy the rest of your afternoon."  
The dismissal left Anders looked a bit chagrined but again, he did not complain - merely gathered his boots and helmet and padded back in stocking-feet across the hot tile of the courtyard.

Caddy watched him go for a minute, then, perhaps realizing he'd been caught staring, turned his attention deliberately to the chessboard. Mahir, who had been waiting for Caddy's attention to return, reached out and slid his bishop four spaces.  
"Checkmate, Cadmus."  
Caddy's face fell.  
"Noo!"  
Mahir smiled generously at him, then shrugged and relaxed back into his chair.  
"Next time, keep your eyes on the game."

~

Dinner was served by two eunuchs in the lower dining room of the main house. Everyone's attendance was requested. Phidias entered last, with Caddy, who had been dithering over which natori to wear. When they arrived, the rest of the house was seated - Mahir, Anthony, and Ghali at one end of the table; Henrik and Anders at the other. Tyson and Everett sat between them. Caddy and Phidias quickly seated themselves, occupying the only empty chairs. The room was dim - although it was lit with candles and oil lamps, it was still windowless, lending it a pervasive darkness.

Silence reigned as the meal was served. As soon as the eunuchs had departed, Anthony spoke.  
"We've called a private dinner because Ghali has an announcement to make."  
The tension in the room increased, and Ghali swallowed nervously before getting to his feet. He hesitated, glanced down at Mahir, then spoke quickly, in a single, short sentence.  
"I want the shot."

Henrik set his fork down at the edge of his plate. He looked to his left, to Anthony, who had a tight jaw and was not speaking. After Anthony, Henrik looked over to Mahir, whose face was expressionless, then back to Ghali.  
"I take it you three have talked about this."  
Mahir glanced at Anthony, who just nodded grimly.  
"Ghali came to us three weeks ago."   
"And you told him it was fine." Henrik amended, his tone annoyed.  
Mahir's face heated, and he leaned forward as if to answer back, but Anthony stopped him with a hand on his wrist.  
"We told him to take two weeks and think about it. He said he'd been thinking for months."  
Mahir had sat back in his chair now, and was rubbing his bare upper arm nervously.  
"Months doesn't do the change justice, I told him." Mahir said, quietly. He looked over at Ghali, who was watching the dialogue with caution. "But he is determined to have it." Mahir finished, and looked up at Anders.   
This did not escape Henrik.

Phidias, unsure of what to say, or whether he should even speak, watched his husband's knuckles whiten in silence.  
Abruptly, Henrik turned to Anders, upsetting his silverware and sending a fork clattering across the stone floor. In the corner, it lay ignored.  
"Did you tell him to do this, Anders?"  
Anders looked as if he'd expected the question.  
"No, sir."  
More silence, and the room seemed to be balancing on a knife point. Caddy snaked a hand out and took a long swallow of his wine.  
"Cadmus!" Phidias scolded him in hushed tones. "I said a little bit. And slowly."  
Caddy glanced at Anders, who did not meet his gaze, then guided his eyes back down to his lap.

"Baba." Ghali spoke now, from the opposite end of the table, seated to his mother's left. His voice was soft, and his eyes pleaded with Henrik. "Please. I want this."  
Henrik's jaw flexed. He looked down between his linked hands at his plate.  
"It is not an easy life, Ghali."  
Ghali nodded.  
"I know, Baba."   
"You will have to make a lot of changes."  
"I know, Baba."  
"A lot must be sacrificed."  
"Baba, please. I know." Ghali's voice was still pleading, but had an edge of barely restrained glee - he knew Henrik was preparing to acquiesce. Henrik looked up and sighed heavily.  
"Tell me something, Ghali." Ghali looked up at Henrik eagerly. Henrik unlatched his hands and waved one towards Anders. "Does this have anything to do with my son?"  
Phidias, who had been feeling distinctly underinformed, began to understand at least a small part of the puzzle.   
Ander's skin was flushed, but he was silent and still. He did not look at anyone but his father.

Ghali glanced to him anyway, hoping perhaps for a clue or a reprieve. None came. He swallowed and shook his head.  
"No, Baba. This has nothing to do with Anders."  
"I know you've been involved."  
Ghali did not deny this.  
"Yes, Baba."  
Henrik continued to stare evenly at the young man.  
"You are inseparable when he is here in Wafra."  
This was not question, and so Ghali did not answer.   
Henrik went on.  
"I find you in his bed as often as your own."  
"Dad." Anders interrupted, quietly.

Phidias and Caddy both looked at him, startled. Anders never interrupted his father. But the younger Angstrom was red in the face now, and tension appeared in the set of his shoulders. Tension and a boldness that he had not expressed before.   
"That's not necessary."  
Henrik raised one eyebrow at his son, then turned his attention back to Ghali.  
"Was he your first?"  
"Dad, stop it."  
Henrik ignored the outburst.  
"Has he been kind to you? Told you that he loved you?"  
Some curious mixture of emotions, some of them dangerous but all of them aching and raw with exposure, throbbed through Ghali's face. He glanced at Anders, but the other was locked in focus on his father.  
"Dad, _enough_."  
Henrik shrugged.  
"He's told that to all his lovers stateside as well. Did you know that?"  
"DAD!" A chair went spinning out behind him and banged into the wall as Anders leapt to his feet. "Enough! What Ghali and I do is ours, and ours alone, understand? If you have a case to make, then make it, but if not, then let the past be that and let Ghali have what he wants."  
Henrik looked calmly up at his raging son, then down at the other, trembling boy.  
"Ahhh." he said, as if understanding were just now coming over him. Then, darkly, "That's what I thought."

Henrik pushed his own chair back - the scraping startled Anders and he retreated a step, before catching himself and holding his ground. Ghali, who was had grown red and was settling his stomach with wine, tensed and trembled a little in his seat.   
Not looking at Henrik, he spoke up again.  
"Please, Baba. It's not about Anders. I would - I do want this. I need this. Please. I - " Ghali bit his lip and looked down at his lap, then, at last, up at Henrik. "What else am I going to do?"  
Henrik paused, half-risen, and Phidias saw a series of emotions flicker across his face - sadness, pity, longing, regret. His expression grew determined.  
"You will stay here, at Wafra. You will work with us. Take over our research, in time."  
Ghali shook his head sadly.  
"I was 15 before I learned to count, Baba. What you suggest...with a lot of work, I could, perhaps, someday. And then what?"  
"Then you would live here."  
"And would I have a family? Would you bring me a carrier? Should I fall in with one of the local boys? Or would Anders and I be childish lovers forever?"  
Henrik ground his jaw.  
"We will settle those things in time. You - "  
"Baba." Ghali interrupted gently, "I don't want this life."  
"Then we'll find something else for you. You can take care of Wafra, run the orchards, build your own home - "  
"To live in alone?"   
"Leave the Emirates, then. Come back to the Union with us. Go to the A.W.N.S. with Josef or Cary."  
Ghali looked aghast, then just shook his head.  
"This is my home, Henrik. You know this. It's my only home."  
Henrik exhaled.  
"Then we will - "  
Ghali shook his head again.   
"No, Baba, please. You can't keep changing the rules for me. You've given me so much that I shouldn't even ask, but please, please. Let me have this?"

Henrik stared and twitched and looked as though he wanted to say more, but suddenly, he turned away.  
"Fine."  
Ghali sucked in a breath of relief. Henrik shook his head.  
"I'll give you the shot in the morning." he looked back over his shoulder at Ghali. "Mahir and Tyson will help you make preparations for the transition tonight."  
Ghali exhaled, his voice rising and breaking.  
"Thank you, Baba. Thank you, thank you so much."  
Henrik turned back to the table, but couldn't look up and meet Ghali's eyes.  
"Thank me when the change is in effect." he answered, weakly.  
Then, recovering something of himself, he cleared his throat.  
"Ask your mother to have some clothes brought for you. Anthony, Everett, and I will move your room."  
Ghali nodded.  
"Yes, thank you, thanks."  
"You need to get your rest tonight. And drink lots of water. Food before the shot will help with the headache, but not the vomiting, I'm afraid."  
Ghali nodded. Henrik looked over at his son again, who was watching the scene with a sort of detached stare.  
"Tell your friends goodbye tonight - you won't be seeing them any more after the morning."  
Ghali looked up, sharply, as if perhaps this part of the deal hadn't come to him before. Then he looked back down, at his lap.  
"Yes, Baba. I will."  
Henrik inhaled deeply and sighed.  
"I love you, Ghali. That is the only reason I am doing this."

~:~

Sheridan sat bolt upright in bed, fighting his way out of the tangled blankets. He panted for a moment, gathering a sense of his surroundings, of his head, then his body - the general accounting of wakefulness. In the dark, he discerned the shape of Soyinka, who stirred.  
"Danny?"  
Sheridan put one hand to his chest, trying to calm his racing heart.  
"Sorry. Sorry. I had a dream."  
Soyinka was sitting up now, his shadow blocking some of the light of the moon. He pulled Sheridan in close to him.  
"What did you dream about?"  
Sheridan blinked his eyes shut, then opened them slowly.  
"Snakes," he said, "I dreamed about snakes."


	36. June 8

William Mackenzie sat silently in his seat by the window, in his study at the house in Dothan. The big chair held him, enveloped him with its smooth leather and its sturdy weight. The day he had bought it he had been so impressed with its weight. How could a single man, he had wondered, make something so elegant out of so much hard, intractable wood? How had human hands carved so deeply into the furrows and whirls of timber as to produce so fine an instrument? Will ran his hands over the leather of the chair. Once an animal - which one, he'd have no idea - but one. One man, one tree, one animal. All solitary, all bonded together in creation, in death. The carpenter whose hands had made this was certainly long dead by now. This chair was a relic, and that was another thing that Will had loved about it. Out of all the things that had not survived - families, nations, lineages, homes, wildlife, water - out of all these things, this chair had come through intact. Whether that was luck or Providence, Will had never decided. But it had come through. That was all that mattered.

Sitting in the chair now, he felt strange. It was his, still, and it comforted him, but there was also something else there. Some imprint of another humanity - one who had come and gone and who had been taken away at his hand. Eugene Step had sat here. He had sat here to tell his story, and to cry, and to ask the forgiveness of the council because he would not have done it had it been his to say, but he'd had no choice, no choice. The gods had told him, he kept saying. The gods had said Joshua was his.

The council had been swift in deciding. Death to Edmund Alm, death to Saul Jefferson. Anyone who violated the covenants was a threat to the secrets of Dothan. And the secrets could not yet be known.

Will Mackenzie had been given this post by the man who had brought him in to Dothan. The Keeper, he had been named, and now Will was called that, too. The Keeper of what? Will knew. Of secrets. Of peace. Of answers and deaths and promises and lies. The keeper of all things no other man of Dothan would want. The Keeper of Life.

Getting up from the chair, he felt his back still ache from where he had held the shovel at an angle to the ground. So many shovelfuls it had taken to dig a hole, a shallow grave, and then to cover it. So many jabs into unyielding earth. Six feet would have been impossible. One and a half would suffice their needs.

Across the room, he filled his glass at the bar and returned to his chair, to musing. Outside of the locked library door, he heard footsteps running - Matty, probably, his youngest son, chasing his brothers. Devin always caught him - Normand never did.

 

John Dothan had claimed to be the genesis. He had claimed to know the code, the secret, the unique combination of genetic sequence and environmental exposure that was sure to turn any man into a Giver of Life. He had claimed to know the origin of the carrier condition.

But many men had said the same. And now Dothan's secret - and his refusal to allow the knowledge of the Answer to fall under another's power - had turned Will Mackenzie into a Keeper of Life. A man whose hands decided who would live and who would die. Will took another swallow of whiskey. Edmund Alm was a good man. He had been a good man. A good man who had done very bad things, but hadn't they all? Let he without sin, Will had tried to tell the Council, but they would hear none of it.

Two had been killed. A debt would have to be paid. Life for a life. Two blood sacrifices. Two threats to the order removed. Two shallow graves on the sides of the road.

~:~

Phidias let himself into his bedroom, carrying a few books from the library and a glass of iced lemon tea. Henrik had disappeared early that morning to the lab. Mahir was tending to Ghali. Anders had gone into town with some of the staff. Caddy, who ordinarily would have been right under his father's feet, had taken up the new hobby of sulking in his room.

All of this meant that Phidias was blessedly alone, for the first time since he'd been at Wafra, and he planned to make the most of it.

Choosing a settee in the corner, he settled his books onto a side table with his lemon tea. The tea was bitter, but it settled his stomach, and the doctor had assured him it was safe to drink in small quantities; the test two days before had confirmed his and Henrik's suspicions.

Mahir had expressed open delight at the news, as had Tyson and, of course, Henrik. Neither Cadmus nor Anders had been informed yet.

From the top of the stack, Phidias lifted his small, clothbound journal. Having learned decades before that writing soothed him, Phidias had kept up a constant dialogue with his notebooks. Thinking things out seemed a hundred times easier when he could see the facts laid out before him, in charts and tables and sometimes little diagrams. He wrote notes to himself frequently: Marry Emily, one particularly famous note had gone, Yes -- No: Pros/Cons.

Emily had found it on their one year anniversary and demanded he read the list aloud. He'd been more nervous then than when he'd made it, but she had smiled so warmly that he had surrendered. By the time he finished the "pros" list, she was crying, and Phidias' heart had never felt more full of loving her.

He recalled now a similar list before marrying Henrik. A list of demands and sacrifices, skirmishes and allegiances. The effect had not been the same.

~:~

The house had been strange all week, and Aaron Soyinka, sitting at his desk in the office of his home, had no idea why. For months now, he'd been having strange feelings - whispers, he would almost call them - of something. As if there were shadows fleeting from the room each time he entered. At first, he had dismissed them. A lot had changed in his life recently, and any one of those things could have contributed to feelings of isolation, paranoia, fear. He had a new wife, for one. A new wife who his father had yet to meet. A new wife whom he had taken through perhaps not the best set of circumstances. Aaron found it difficult to forgive himself for that. But what had the alternative been? Death? Death would have been a mercy for Sheridan. No, the world was cruel, and it would have been Rowe House for the pretty carrier who Aaron had, upon first seeing, decided he could not abandon. Not to a fate like that - another body in the chop shop, another screaming, living corpse strapped to a chair.

Aaron firmly steered his mind away from that thought. Sheridan was fine now. He was fine, and in Aaron's good custody and safe from danger. At least, mostly. All week, his wife had skulked around as if haunted by something. Aaron could not determine what.

Aaron felt a brief flicker of faithlessness - perhaps it was the old man's juju making Sheridan sick. The thought passed quickly into resentment - he was beginning to sound like his father now, the paranoid old Englishman. That was exactly what his father would have said: Juju was bad. It messed with the natural order of things. Try prayer instead.

Sheridan still wore the band around his waist, and would not take it off; what the juju man had said had frightened him. What was it again? Aaron wondered. Bad spirits, or something. Juju men were always going on about bad spirits. The band was supposed to - keep them away?  
Aaron scoffed and took his feet down from the desk.  
Perhaps the band had just drawn them nearer. Something was haunting Sheridan.

He would have to speak with Harley.


	37. June 10 [Saturday]

"Something's going on with the carriers." Aaron Soyinka kicked off his formal shoes, opened his suit jacket, and lifted his feet onto the coffee table in Harley's office. He folded his large hands behind his head. "I don't know what. But Sheridan is...disturbed."  
Harley Witterbaum, also still wearing his suit from the church service that morning, glanced up at his friend, then went back to stacking the files on his desk.  
"Oh?"  
Aaron Soyinka had never been a stupid man. He knew evasion when he saw it.  
"Yes. Has James mentioned anything? Are they fighting? Is it something either of them have done or said?"  
Harley bit his lip, pretending to think hard.  
"Nope. Nothing that I'm aware of. Can you hand me that box?"  
Aaron raised an eyebrow, but took his feet down from the ottoman and leaned forward to retrieve a box with his left hand.  
"Ah. Perhaps it's something else, then."  
Harley shrugged and frowned, poring over the contents of an old spiral notebook.  
"It's probably nothing, Soy Sauce. What do they have to worry about - they're carriers! Remember? No work, no responsibilities, no problems. They're probably just bored. They want some attention and they've hatched some silly little plot to get it. Just ignore them both, and it'll go away."

Aaron Soyinka studied his friend's face closely. In the fifteen years that they'd been friends, he'd never known Harley Witterbaum to lie to him. Of course, this was the first time they'd shared a continent, let alone a house. Secrets could build up when one lived in close quarters, he supposed. But was it real, the perceived circumvention? Or was it an extension of the juju-man paranoia that Sheridan had been spouting of late? Soyinka decided he would let it pass for now - better to be rational, and Harley had done nothing wrong.  
"Ah." Aaron murmured, "Perhaps you speak the truth."  
Harley frowned up at him over another notebook.  
"Perhaps? Of course I do." he grinned at Soyinka. "No one knows James better than me."

~:~

Phidias met Mahir and Tyson for lunch in the upper level dining room that overlooked the valley. They seated themselves around one of the smaller tables, nearer to the balcony edge, where a slight breeze seemed to be passing in.

"As much of a breeze as we'll get around here in this season, anyway." Tyson observed, sipping at his glass of lemon water. Phidias, drinking the same, nodded, then addressed Mahir.  
"Where's Ghali today?"  
Mahir made a vague gesture with one hand and sipped his wine.  
"Town. He wanted to go. It's been a week, and his father said fine, so off he went. Anders went with him."  
"Alone?" Tyson asked in surprise, and Mahir laughed.  
"Ha! No. They have an escort." he threw an apologetic glance at Phidias. "Anders is your son, and no doubt a perfect gentleman, but I trust him with Ghali as much as I trust a wolf to guard my lambs."  
Phidias chuckled a little, feeling calm and finding the breeze relaxing.  
"It's alright; I understand. I'm sure I'll feel the same way about Caddy."  
Mahir sipped his wine.  
"You mean you don't already?"  
Phidias shrugged.  
"Well, he's only 14, so I have a little while."  
Mahir mulled this over.  
"Do you?"  
Phidias frowned and swallowed his bite of fish.  
"What makes you say so?"  
Tyson glanced between the two. Mahir smiled indulgently and tilted his head.  
"Well, Phidias..."  
Phidias glared up at him, sourness overtaking his meal.  
"What?"  
"This is the desert."

~:~

Aaron Soyinka read over the file in front of him with an even amalgamation of horror and sheer, unadulterated hurt.

 

 _CONFIDENTIAL INFORMATION FOR OFFICIAL USE ONLY._

 _Federal Record of Arrest and Prosecution in the Allied North American Nations_

 _\--------------------------------------------------------------_

 _Name: James Milton Witterbaum (last known)_

 _Identification#: ZK23432P13E3I_

 _Other Name(s): James Andrew Milton, James Eliot Milton, James Arbor Milton_

 _\--------------------------------------------------------------  
First Victim Report:  
Charge # LST/K4379L1 Rape, First Degree Lutherville, Southwestern Territory GUILTY_

 _Second Victim Series Report:  
Charge # BNC/T1347K14.1 Rape, Second Degree Boston, Northeastern Counties GUILTY  
Charge # BNC/T1347K14.2 Rape, Second Degree Boston, Northeastern Counties GUILTY  
Charge # BNC/T1347K14.3 Rape, Statutory Boston, Northeastern Counties DISMISSED_

 _Third Victim Report:  
Charge # ANS/L347P1.1 Sexual Assault, Third Degree Anselm, Northern States GUILTY OF A LESSER OFFENSE  
Charge # ANS/L347P1.2 Assault With A Deadly Weapon Anselm, Northern States GUILTY  
Charge # ANS/L347P1.3 Assault On Military Personnel Anselm, Northern States GUILTY_

 _Fourth Victim Series Report:  
Charge #CEC7/A42C13.1 Sexual Assault, First Degree, With Chemical Coercion Woodmire Carrier Education Center (#7), Southeastern Counties GUILTY  
Charge #CEC7/A42C13.2 Sexual Assault, First Degree, With Chemical Coercion Woodmire Carrier Education Center (#7), Southeastern Counties GUILTY  
Charge #CEC7/D75E51.1 Sexual Assault, First Degree, With Chemical Coercion Woodmire Carrier Education Center (#7), Southeastern Counties DISMISSED  
Charge #CEC7/D75E51.2 Sexual Assault, First Degree Woodmire Carrier Education Center (#7), Southeastern Counties GUILTY OF LESSER OFFENSE  
Charge #CEC7/K91B3.1 Rape, Second Degree Woodmire Carrier Education Center (#7), Southeastern Counties GUILTY  
Charge #CEC7/K91B3.2 Assault and Battery Woodmire Carrier Education Center (#7), Southeastern Counties GUILTY_  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Aaron Soyinka stared at the sheet in his hand. It was impossible. It was sick. The yellow paper shivered in its possessor's hand, fluttering the words back and forth before his eyes. Rape. Assault. Coercion.  
James.   
"Aaron?"  
Soyinka startled back into the present, to the short-backed chair across the desk from Mac Scarborough.

The young officer was frowning.  
"Now, you know I'm not supposed to give this to you, don't you, A?"  
Soyinka smiled a shaky smile.  
"I know."  
"You know that technically, this doesn't even exist. Those records were purged once when he entered the CEC, and again when he transferred to Brookham."  
"I know." Aaron Soyinka repeated, and looked down the sheet again.

Mac Scarborough steepled his fingers.   
"If you want the truth...I _remember_ this guy; I served three months with him in the early days. With the men, he always seemed real sweet, always friendly. Never gave attitude, never talked back. But this shit...I mean, want to blame it on his folks, really - they got caught up with one of those freak cult groups - Donovan, I think it was - "  
Soyinka looked up, surprised.  
"He was in a cult?"  
Mac scoffed.  
"Yeah, and a real fucked up one at that. They got some kind of sex ceremony they do. They all do it - the men, the carriers, even sometimes the kids if they think they're old enough. They strip naked, get all painted up like a bunch of goddamn savages, drink a little magic mixture, and supposedly it gives 'em visions. They get all high, go primal, fuck, maybe bust some shit up, and then wake up the next morning like nothing ever happened." Mac indicated the rap sheet in Soyinka's hands. "Your friend Jamie there went through the ceremony once, too. Well...he sort of did."

Mac paused and thumbed through some more pages in the folder. Finally coming to the sheet he wanted, he retrieved it and dropped the write-up on the desk in front of Soyinka.  
"He was 15, fell in love with some carrier kid in the compound. They wanted the ceremony. The parents said no, so they decided to do it on their own." Mac paused for a moment. "The other kid didn't survive."  
Soyinka was silent, processing. Mac went on.  
"Anyway, the CEC shrinks think that incident's what fucked this James kid up. Maybe it was bad drugs or maybe he was already screwed up in the head, or maybe it was just all the crazy talk or what - I don't know. But ever since then, the man has been _insatiable_." Mac leaned forward, across the table. "You're holding the short list."  
Soyinka swallowed.  
"Harley must not know."  
"Who's Harley?"  
Soyinka looked up, met Mac's eyes.  
"James' husband."


	38. June 14

Phidias was left alone during most of the day now; in the mornings, there was a group breakfast on the main veranda, but afterwards the others scattered for work and Caddy was occupied with lessons. Mostly, he busied himself with reading, avoiding the eyes of the chaperones and eunuchs scattered throughout the estate, and trying not to be nauseous. Henrik came, incidentally during the day, fussed over Phidias, and left, commenting all the time that for such a high-risk pregnancy, his carrier husband certainly seemed to move about the house a lot.

So today, deciding to take things easy, Phidias was sitting alone in the library, a mug of lukewarm ginger tea resting beside him as he pored over a text on ancient Roman culture. His glasses, which he wore only rarely now, slipped down his nose, and he straightened them just in time to look up and see his son running into the library towards him.

"Dad! Dad!!"  
Caddy, moving at a fast break, was dogged by two young boys who looked to be about 13 and 9, and were dressed in loose linen pants and shirts. The trio barreled across the shiny marble floor towards Phidias, who startled a little and moved to get up.  
"It's OK, Phidias!" a voice called out from around the doorway, followed by a reveal of Mahir just afterwards. "They're not wild animals who have broken into the house - they are just my sons."

Phidias relaxed again. The three had skidded to a stop in front of him, and both boys were grinning up at him.  
"Hi! Are you Caddy's dad?"  
Mahir crossed the room to interrupt, gesturing vaguely with his hands.  
"I apologize for their exuberance, Phidias. They get it from Anthony, and I've never been quite able to get it out of them." Mahir stopped just behind the group of children and grinned down at his friend. "So these are my younger sons - Khalil and Tony. Khalil's the little one."  
Phidias waved vaguely at all of them.  
"Hello."  
The boys glanced at each other, then at their carrier parent.  
"Speak." Mahir prompted them, and they turned back to Phidias.  
"Hello!" the pair chorused.  
Mahir smiled proudly, then waved his arms at all of them.  
"Alright, you've met him. Now shoo. Phidias is tired and he needs his rest."  
The two little boys nodded solemnly, then grinned, looking for all the world like miniatures of both their parents.  
"Bye, Dr. Phidias! Bye, Baba!"   
The elder, Tony, turned to Cadmus.   
"We're going out to the orchards. Are you coming with us?"  
Caddy's eyes widened in delight, but then, remembering himself, he turned to his father.  
"Dad?"  
Phidias looked to Mahir, who shrugged.  
"It's safe enough."  
Phidias nodded.  
"OK. But be safe. Play nice with each other."  
Tony nodded seriously.  
"I'll take good care of everybody, Dr. Phidias. I promise."  
Phidias grinned weakly, and Mahir smiled proudly before shooing them off again.  
"Good, good. Alright, go. To the orchards, and no farther. Remember you have Cadmus with you. Come back at dinnertime."  
The boys grinned at their carrier parent and dashed off, Caddy following after them as fast as his long robes would allow.

When they were gone, Mahir seated himself next to Phidias on the cushioned bench.  
"And how are you today, Dr. Angstrom?"  
Phidias shrugged.  
"Fine. A little ill. Achy. Hungry."  
Mahir nodded.  
"It's the heat. I ate incessantly with Khalil, when we were here. And I was always nauseous. With Tony, not so much. You've been sick again?"  
"It comes and goes."  
"Well, I've got something to take your mind off of it."  
Phidias lifted his brow.  
"Oh?"  
Mahir nodded and gestured with one arm, the light fabrics he wore swirling around him.  
"Your husband would like me to take you on a little trip. He wants to see you in his laboratory."  
Phidias' expression shifted between surprise and apprehension.  
"Why?"  
Mahir shrugged in the casual way he had and stood up, encouraging Phidias to follow.  
"Who knows - an afternoon tryst? Just come on, let's go."  
Phidias shook his head.  
"No."  
Mahir tilted his head.  
"No?"  
"No. Tell me why he wants me and I'll come."  
Mahir looked bemused.  
"He's your husband. He - "  
"Tell me what he wants me for," Phidias repeated, slowly but with meaning, "And I'll go."  
Mahir raised an eyebrow and sat back down.  
"He wants to run some preliminary tests."  
"On what?"  
Mahir hesitated, and Phidias wondered if the facts were really so secret, or if Mahir simply didn't really know.  
"On the fetus. And you. To make sure you're both doing OK."  
Phidias shook his head.  
"The doctors already did that. They took seven different samples from me and it all got sent off to the main hospital in Al-Kuwayt. That was only a week ago. So there's something else."  
Mahir fiddled with the tatting of his natori and was silent. Phidias shrugged and picked his book back up.  
"I'll ask Henrik at dinner, then."

Mahir's head jerked up, his face tense. Ah, Phidias thought, that was interesting. It meant Mahir was afraid. Which meant one of two things: either Mahir had been assigned to bring him and was frightened of failure in his mission, or else Mahir had had strict orders not to arouse Phidias' suspicion, and now he had. Either way, it meant that Mahir was answering to someone, and was now reacting negatively to the possibility of some sort of recourse for things not going according to plan (on his end, at least).

"Well, it's not the same kind of test, Phidias." Mahir had regained his composure, and the smooth voice had returned. "This one's genetic. Far better than they could do in the labs in Al-Kuwayt. Henrik just wants - he's trying to see if the baby might be a carrier-in-womb, that's all."  
Bewilderment took over Phidias's expression.  
"This soon? But it's maybe a few weeks, at best. He can't tell this soon."  
Mahir held Phidias's gaze evenly.  
"Henrik can tell."  
Phidias didn't know what to make of this.  
"It's just one test?"  
Mahir nodded brightly, but his hesitance to speak betrayed the lie.  
Phidias shook his head.  
"Lying. How many tests?"  
"Maybe three. Some minor sample harvesting."  
Phidias sat back in alarm.  
"'Sample harvesting'?"  
Mahir tried to soothe him.  
"Just some swabs. Henrik needs new carrier tissue to replicate the - "   
Mahir stopped abruptly, and there was silence. Phidias could see the tension writ into the other carrier's body, the way his eyes looked away and fingers grew tense against themselves. Phidias prompted him.  
"The...?"  
Mahir tilted his head.  
"I'm sorry?"  
Phidias frowned. He hated this game.  
"The what? You were saying something."  
Mahir shook his head.  
"Sorry, you must have misheard me."  
Phidias felt angry for just a thread of a second, then he calmly turned back to his book and ginger tea.  
"Tell me or you go back to Henrik without me."  
Mahir's eyebrows knitted together in worry.

 _Ah_ , Phidias realized, _so it's Henrik he fears._

Mahir narrowed his eyes, bit his lower lip, then released it.  
"He needs fresh tissue to replicate the Phantom." he told Phidias, as matter-of-factly as if he had just been asked how the weather was.

Phidias froze. His throat swelled too much for him to speak. His stomach lurched into his lungs and his brain thrashed against the sides of his skull. The Phantom? He had heard of it, sure. All carriers had. But it was just legend - modern myth. Unrealistic. Impossible. Phidias had even considered writing a paper on the subject before, in his former life. The Establishment and Evolution of a Modern Mythology: The Carrier 'Phantom'.

To think it was one thing - to hear it, another.

"Henrik...makes the Phantom?" he managed, sounding as lost as he felt.  
Mahir nodded slowly, and looked annoyed.  
"How did you think all that business with Ghali came about? You can't be that oblivious, Phidias." Phidias began to stutter out a response, but Mahir interrupted. "Now, don't go telling him I told you. We only all agreed on it last night - your getting full clearance, I mean. And I think he wanted to tell you everything himself, so that you would understand." Phidias felt himself pale, and his head swam a little. Mahir watched him closely. "Phidias? Are you OK?"  
Phidias recovered enough to take a swig of his tea and set the mug down.  
"I'm fine. Take me to Henrik."

~:~

"No, Danny. We're not going back. We're not _ever_ going back."  
Sheridan was near tears, but Soyinka felt there was little he could do to comfort him just now; he was still in shock himself.

The past three days had been a whirlwind. Aaron had left for home immediately after his meeting with Mac Scarborough, the little yellow paper still fluttering in his pocket like some crazed bird. He'd taken the train, not driven, and as he stood on the platform counting the minutes until he'd be back at home with Sheridan again, Aaron had deeply regretted that decision.

Neither James nor Harley had been home when he'd arrived, and that may have been for the best, because Aaron Soyinka knew his own rage, knew the depth of his anger at Harley for endangering Sheridan, and at James for just...being, and knew that the confrontation would have been horrible.

Instead, he'd gotten home and begun packing immediately, violently, wildly, until Sheridan came running in and begged him to stop, taken vases and ornaments and precious artifacts from his father out of his hands.

"Please!" he'd cried, not understanding his husband's anger, "You'll break them."

Soyinka had felt guilty then, but it had been too much to intake all at once, and Sheridan was too innocent and too available, so instead of showing him the paper, Aaron had just thrown his carrier wife out of the room and locked the door.

~

In the morning, he hit Harley in the face, and didn't stop hitting him until Sheridan and James came running to pull them apart. Harley looked bewildered, and Aaron had just hissed "yellow sheet" which Sheridan didn't understand, but apparently Harley did because he relented and staggered backwards, ashamed.

James had relented, too, and hidden behind his husband.

Sheridan had been too preoccupied with getting an enraged Aaron up the stairs to worry about it.

~

"What happened?" Sheridan had asked, more than once.  
"Disagreement." Soyinka had grunted out because he hadn't had the heart to tell Sheridan the truth. Hadn't had the heart to break the news that James was not his friend, had never loved him - was only a madman with an insatiable hole inside of him that could only be filled with flesh.  
"Harley's a prat. That's all."  
Sheridan frowned and shook his curly head.  
"But that prat's still your friend. One fight can't end a friendship, you know? James and I fight, really bad sometimes, but we're still friends. We still stay together. We still love each other."

Aaron had looked at his carrier more accusingly than he'd meant to then, but only because the thought has risen in his mind, the question: How much does he know? and then he immediately shut that line of thought down because Sheridan was too innocent and too perfect to have ever gone that way.

"Harley and I aren't friends. We're not anything to each other any more."

Even saying that hurt, but putting Sheridan in danger hurt more. Better one broken heart than two.

~

They moved on, temporarily, to a room on the third floor of the B&B where the two of them had first met. Sheridan stood in front of him, wearing one of Aaron's sweaters (two sizes too large for him, but he favored it) with his eyes brimming and lower lip trembling.  
"But, Aaron, please - he's my friend! He's my only friend, and you can't just take him away from me like that!"  
Aaron Soyinka shook his head.  
"No, Sheridan. We're not going back."  
Sheridan felt the himself push beyond the pale, beyond the breaking point and into the realm of raw anger.  
"But, Aaron, I - "  
"Sheridan, no! Dammit! No calls, no visits! We are not going back. Not now, not later, not fucking ever! Do you understand me?!"  
Sheridan froze, then seized up and his breath hitched like he couldn't find it and he finally did and it was awful. Shaking his head, his hands, his whole body, he turned his rage in full on Soyinka.  
" _Fuck you_ , Aaron! **Fuck you**! You sick son of a bitch! You selfish _child_ of a man! I never thought you were like this; I never thought you were this cruel, but you are! You're just as sick and evil and mean as the rest of them. You think you're better, but you're not better - you're not better than anyone. You're an obsessed, insecure pseudo-intellectual who can't control himself or his emotions and has to make his carrier suffer as a result. I _fucking_ hate you, and I will **never** forgive you for this. Do you understand me? Not now, not later, not _fucking ever_!"  
Soyinka felt each of these arrows pierce him, and wanted to raise a shield to defend himself, but found himself unable somehow. He took the abuse.  
"Sheridan, I'm sorry."  
"Fuck your sorry! You made me move out! You made me pack all our shit! You took my only friend from me! My only fucking friend! Fuck..."  
Sheridan took an angry minute to collect himself, then simply looked at Soyinka, shook his head, and ran out of the room.

Aaron watched him go, torn between letting him leave and wanting him back. The suite they were staying in was not very large - two rooms and kitchenette - and so the carrier could not have gone too far.

Perhaps I should tell him, Aaron thought, not for the first time. But that would be too much. This was already too much. For a newly changed carrier and a barely-made babe, this was already too much.

Soyinka scolded himself. If he'd had his wits about him, he'd had thought of a better way to do this. Come back to the house and taken Sheridan on vacation somewhere, maybe England. Found a job there and never returned. Not come home angry, making an incomprehensible scene.

But that was what had happened. And what was done was done. They could only go forward.

~:~

They took the interior route to the laboratory - through the labyrinthine tunnels that stretched out beneath the basements of Wafra, until they were arriving above ground again, in a silvery hallway that looked sterile and empty.  
"This way." Mahir led eagerly, Phidias trailing behind.   
From the speed of his walking and the merry chatter he kept up, Phidias could tell the other carrier was excited about where they were going. Remarkable, he thought, how much passion the group of them had for this place.  
"My darling!" Henrik looked up from where he was bent over some notebooks to greet them and hold his arms out to his carrier wife. "Come, see my office."  
Mahir hung back a little, uncertain whether to stay or go. Henrik tilted his head at the other carrier.  
"Thank you, Mahir, for bringing him."  
It was a clear dismissal, but Mahir lingered on.  
"Henrik, could I just maybe - "  
"Mahir." Henrik's voice was gentle, but implacable. "Anthony has told you no."  
Mahir clenched his fists.  
"We're supposed to be a team, you know. He's not the boss."  
Henrik stared him down for a long minute.  
"He is your husband, Mahir. Not me."  
Eyes shuttered, the dark-haired carrier turned on his heel and left.

Once Mahir had gone, Phidias turned to Henrik.  
"What was that about?"  
Henrik shrugged it off.  
"Mahir's no longer allowed to work in the lab interior. Anthony felt the lab conditions were too dangerous. He's not yet adjusted to that."  
Henrik led the way through a set of glass doors which buzzed, then swished open at their approach.  
"Advanced biometrics." Henrik explained. "I had them programmed to your settings last night."  
Phidias looked duly impressed.

Henrik led him into a windowless office with a large, cherry oak desk in the middle of it. He gestured to two gray leather chairs.  
"Sit, please. Let's talk. I'm sure you have questions."  
Phidias did sit, quickly. The air in this room felt stuffy, and it made him feel queasy again. He swallowed it.  
"So what is it, exactly, that you do?" Henrik took a breath to answer and Phidias held a hand up. "And give me a real answer, please. Not the party line."  
Henrik inclined his head.  
"Alright. I am a scientist. My research involved carrier genetics, and has for many years. I find solutions to genetic problems, and I sell these solutions to interested parties."  
Phidias hesitated.  
"Did you make the Phantom?"  
Henrik raised an eyebrow.  
"Now who put that idea in your - "  
"I'm not stupid, Henrik. You changed Ghali with it, didn't you?"  
Henrik inclined his head and Phidias took several deep breaths to steady himself.  
"Do you sell it?"  
Henrik's mouth quirked up into a wry grin.  
"No. In fact, I am paid handsomely not to sell it."  
"Why?"  
Henrik shrugged.  
"Power. Control. Nobody wants the other side to win."  
"Who pays you?"  
"Your government." he paused. "Several governments."  
Phidias paused.  
"Including your own?" Henrik just smiled. Phidias swallowed again, throat feeling tight and dry. "May I have some water?"  
Henrik jumped to his feet.  
"Of course. Are you feeling alright? You've eaten, I presume? Are you sick again?"  
Phidias shook his head.  
"I'm fine. Just...water?"  
Henrik crossed the room to a mini-bar and retrieved a carafe of water. He poured some into a glass, which he trotted back over to Phidias. He waited patiently while Phidias drank.  
"More?"  
Phidias shook his head, wanting to get back to the matter at hand.  
"So you work on a team? With Mahir and Tyson and Everett and all of them?"  
Henrik nodded.  
"Did you all create the Phantom together?"  
"You presume that we created it at all."  
"Did you?"  
Henrik shrugged.  
"90% discovery. 10% creation."  
Phidias's heart was pounding. His palms felt sweaty.  
"So did you make the plague, too? This whole thing? Is the whole world your creation? Did you kill all those people?"

Henrik's eyebrows lifted, and he laughed.  
"Flattering to know that you think so highly of my abilities, Phidias, but no. I am not responsible for that much."  
Phidias nodded. At least that fear was assuaged.  
"But you make the shot for it, don't you? What else do you make?"  
Henrik hesitated.  
"A vaccine."  
Phidias' eyes widened.  
"You can stop the Change?"  
"Not stop it, not reverse it - only prevent it."  
"Did you take the vaccine?"  
"Of course."  
"Did Anders?"  
"Yes."  
"And the rest?"  
"Except for Mahir, Amin, Tyson, and Denis. They took the change."  
Phidias was bewildered.  
"Why?"  
Henrik lifted a corner of his mouth.  
"Any truly good scientist tests his creation on himself." He looked away, reflecting. "Also, they had some idea of creating a world for ourselves here. Mahir and Anthony were already in love, and Denis and Josef were not far behind. Amin was a surprise. And Tyson...that's new."  
"And Ghali?"  
Henrik's face darkened.  
"Ghali was never intended to be a part of any experiment at all."  
This seemed to be a sore spot, and so Phidias left it. There was a more pressing question in his mind anyway.  
"Am I a part of your experiments?"  
Without pause, Henrik answered.  
"Yes."  
Phidias felt the floor spin out from under him. He managed to stay upright in the chair.  
"How? Tell me. Everything."  
Henrik looked troubled.  
"You changed. Cadmus changed. The circumstances were unusual - two close relatives, living together, changing so close to one another. It has been theorized that an element of the change is environmental - if the senses are overwhelmed with male presence, certain sequences can be flicked on or off, triggering the change. That couldn't have been the case with you and Cadmus. Close relatives almost never change, and certainly not within the same year." Henrik was mostly thinking aloud now. "There may be something particular about the two of you - something innate that yields the change all on its own. If so, it may represent a new shift in the direction of the condition. If the process is changing, the Phantom may become obsolete. I need to observe you both, to understand. To try to see if a new pattern is emerging."

An awful thought suddenly struck Phidias in the center of his chest.  
"So is that the reason you married me?"  
Henrik's face took on a look of shock, then a slight pain. He shook his head.  
"No, Phidias. Certainly not. I married you because you are handsome and interesting and exceedingly clever."  
"And an ideal test subject."  
"Phidias, that's not it."  
"But it's part of it. It's the reason you courted me."  
"Phidias - "  
"Admit it, Henrik!"  
Henrik leapt to his feet, knocking a sheaf of papers to the floor as he did so.  
"IF I HAD WANTED YOU, Phidias, no government in the world would have denied me. I would have given them your name and you would have been delivered to my doorstep." Henrik snapped. "I didn't need to waste time with scientific lectures and expensive dinners. I didn't have to marry you to get what I wanted."  
Phidias felt struck, not only by Henrik's anger, but also by his husband's casual admittance of his own power. The room swirled a little around him; he felt light-headed.  
"OK. OK." he swallowed, trying to get a grip on himself again. Henrik had calmed down, and was now leaning against the desk looking embarrassed.  
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell."  
"It's fine. I didn't - it's fine."  
"Are you OK?" he asked, concerned.  
Phidias nodded.  
"Yep. Yeah, I'm fine. I have another question."  
Henrik's brows came together.  
"OK. One more and then back home to rest. You are getting pale again."  
Phidias licked his lips where they felt dry.  
"Why are you telling me this now?"  
Henrik took a deep breath.  
"Because there's a problem." he frowned. "We think our databank about the virus has leaked."  
Phidias' eyes widened.  
"Leaked? Where? How?"  
Henrik frowned deeply.  
"We don't know. The only ones with access to our work are the original team, including myself. And," he hesitated again, "- and also Amin."  
Phidias looked confused.  
"Amin was not part of the team?"  
Henrik tilted his head indulgently.  
"Now, Phidias. That's four questions too many. Come, it's rest time."  
"No! No. Please, Henrik. Just tell me all of it now."

Henrik seemed to consider this, then spoke.  
"Amin was a street child. Cary took him in when he was 17." Henrik hesitated. "It was...a questionable situation. But they persisted. He had Amin's loyalty, for who knows what reason. Eventually, he insisted on bringing him into the circle. Although he had no training, he could run certain things for us - go into the communities near here, blend in, ask questions, gather certain things we needed. He was useful, and we let him stay."  
"And now you think he's the leak?"  
Henrik shrugged.  
"There may not even be any leak at all. It may all be some old fool's fanciful fairy tales."  
Phidias stared at him.  
"Explain."  
"Two days ago, a man confessed to murder. Under interrogation, he said that it had been done to protect a secret formula that had been told to him - the recipe, so to speak, to initiate the Change."  
"The Phantom."  
Henrik made a noncommittal noise.  
"Ordinarily, this sort of nonsense would be ignored, of course. But...this man does seem to have an unusually high occurrence of carriers in his immediate...vicinity."  
Phidias' eyes narrowed in suspicion.  
"What's his...vicinity?"  
Henrik frowned as he recalled the details.  
"There is a town called Woodacre. It's a compound, I think. Part of some cult they call Dothan."  
Phidias struggled to try to place the name. It sounded familiar, somehow...  
"So you think he might be telling the truth?"  
"I plead with the universe that he is not."  
"Why not?"  
Henrik looked at Phidias, exasperated.  
"War. Destruction. Societal collapse. Riots. Genocide. We are the limiting element in a formula that includes every single living human in the world, Phidias. But if a new reagent were added, if the balance of the formula were to change..."  
Phidias swallowed.  
"So what are you going to do?"  
"We have to invalidate him. Prove his formula is a fake and his occurrences are a fluke. Prove that he was irrelevant from the very start, or else make him obsolete. Neutralize or invalidate his virus, and create a new one."  
"How?"  
Henrik raised an eyebrow.  
"I was hoping that you and Cadmus and the baby could help me with that."  
Phidias nodded, then swallowed.  
"So what if it doesn't work? What if I'm not anything special? What if you can't neutralize his virus, or make a new one?"  
Without taking a breath, Henrik responded:  
"Then we destroy Dothan."


	39. June 18

General William Mackenzie sat silently in custody in the most luxurious suite the government had available and wondered why the hell he had done it.

There had been nothing in it for him, really. No value in it, no money. But it was as if the whole thing had just come over him - as if it had happened to him, rather than he being a willing participant. Ren had needed his help getting something off of a high shelf. Will had gone into the closet to retrieve the stepladder when there it was - the shovel, still wrapped in the cold gray tarp, brown with dirt and blood in places. And there, the ax. There, the rope. Will had been overcome.

So he had called the CEC and confessed. Told them everything - all of it, every bit. And now he was a pariah. Now Ren wouldn't answer his telephone calls and Sean wouldn't let Adrian speak to him. It was fear, he knew, all fear. All of Woodacre sat trembling in their homes right now, waiting for the walls to come down around them. And surely, they would.

~:~

The tests were positive. Baby Angstrom was a carrier-in-womb. Henrik had congratulated Phidias and toasted him with sparkling water at a midmorning meal.

Phidias tried hard to be as exuberant as his husband, but found himself weighed down with worry instead.  
"So what does this mean?"  
"Nothing, yet. Only perhaps that there is some new pattern forming in the Change's development. Only that a genetic link between the three of you may be the key to unraveling its secrets."  
Phidias nodded and picked at his flatbread.  
"Henrik?" he asked, quietly, "You won't hurt him, will you?"  
Henrik frowned, confused.  
"Who?"  
Phidias tilted his head down, indicated his stomach.  
"Bebis." he thought again. "Or Cadmus. Either of them?"  
Henrik shook his head gravely.  
"Phidias, I swear to you - everything I have ever done was to prevent harm coming to my family. Cadmus is my family. And the bebis is my family, too. I will not hurt them."  
Phidias nodded, although his worry was far from assuaged.

~:~

Sheridan thought he would go insane in the little room alone. All day, almost every day. He watched the television - government movies, cooking shows, the news, and a few old shows here and there - but it didn't satisfy him. He read books, but they only told their stories and didn't care about his. He listened to the radio, but felt silly talking back.

That morning, they went to the small chapel service that the B&B provided. There were two other couples there, plus a few single men who were passing through the area. Aaron, in a fit of protectiveness, wouldn't let him speak to any of them. Sheridan had tried to smile at another carrier across the room, but Aaron had hustled him upstairs, then gone out to run more house-hunting errands.

That afternoon, Sheridan decided.  
"I don't care what Aaron thinks," Sher Soyinka told the empty room, "I need to see my friend."

~:~

At dinner, Caddy was exuberant.  
"I had such a fun day!"  
"Oh?" Henrik inquired politely. Phidias picked at his poultry and leaned back in his seat. The cooling evening air blew across his skin.  
"Yes!"

Phidias sipped his water, watching his son bouncing around in delight. It was the happiest he'd seen Caddy since the Ghali dinner.  
Henrik also watched him, with some amusement.

"So what made your day so much fun?"  
Caddy grinned and wrinkled his nose.  
"Tony and Khalil!" he reported immediately. "They're Mahir's sons, and they're back from...wherever they were."  
Henrik visibly relaxed.  
"Ah. Of course. Mahir's boys. The two terrors. They are around?"  
Caddy grinned.  
"Yeah, and they're awesome! And we went for a walk, and we played soccer, and I had fun!" he looked thoughtfully down at his plate. "It's nice to be around people who don't care about the carrier stuff, sometimes."   
Henrik smiled sympathetically.  
"Well, still, Cadmus, there are rules - "  
Caddy bristled, but kept his eyes demurely on his food.  
"Yes, I know. And I'm being good. I promise."  
Henrik raised an eyebrow.   
"Alright. Well, just so. If you promise."


	40. June 22

The first experiment had been a bust, and Will Mackenzie had been unable to pinpoint exactly why it should be so. The two technicians in the lab had exchanged glances with each other, and Will could almost hear their disbelief rising. The second experiment had almost worked - the transition had taken, at least. But the poor rat had a bad reaction and had to be put down afterwards. Will assured them it would work on a human.

So on Wednesday, June 22, they had brought him a young man. The boy was in his early twenties, a late age for such a thing to be done in Dothan, but fine enough, Will supposed. The man was a recruit, one of a particularly dedicated breed. He was slimmer than most of the soldiers, but his muscles cut more clearly. An aquatics unit - a swimmer. He had been the youngest. His hand trembled as he introduced himself to Will Mackenzie, although he did his best to hide it beneath the hem of his thin, papery hospital gown.

Will made small talk with him as he administered the first set of vitamins, the first injection of the cell tissue. The young man knew what was going on - they had told him, had asked explicitly if he was willing to participate in this. In the best case scenario, they told him, he would lose his job. The recruit laughed, shortly, when he described how his CO had said this. In the best case scenario, he would change without incident and then be transferred to a CEC of his choosing for further training into carrier life. Will Mackenzie had struggled to understand this. Why he would agree to such a thing - did he want to leave the military? Did he dislike serving with his unit? The recruit shook his head violently. No, the opposite - he wanted to serve with everything he had. He wanted to take on the ultimate mission. To sacrifice oneself for the good of the Union, and the good of mankind would be an honor. He was an honorable man.

Will Mackenzie wondered if he had ever been that naïve.

~:~

"Caddy!"   
Khalil and Tony came tearing around the corner at top speed and nearly crashed head-on into their friend.  
"Hiya! What's up?"  
Khalil giggled and looked bashfully up at Caddy.  
"Tony's got an idea."  
Caddy looked curiously towards the elder boy, who crossed his arms over his chest and grinned proudly.  
"It's not fair that you always get left behind when we go in to market. So we want to take you with us!"  
Caddy shook his head, trying and failing to keep the bitterness out of his voice.  
"Guys, I can't - that's too dangerous. Carriers can't just go wherever they want, remember?"  
Tony shook his head.  
"No, you can. 'Cause we got an idea - we're going to dress you like a boy!"  
Khalil squealed in excitement.  
"Yeah! We saw it on a movie - if you're a girl, you can dress up like a boy and nobody will know!" Khalil frowned. "Not for a while, at least. Long enough for you to come to market with us!"  
Tony stepped forward.  
"Look, you're the same size as me, almost. You can probably fit something of mine. And we'll go in the middle of the day, just for a little while. It'll be fun! Khalil won't tell, and neither will I. And you can be free, for once."

Caddy opened his mouth to protest, but found himself reconsidering. To walk outside again, in the market, among people...with no one knowing what he was, no one caring - no one staring at his body, peering into his eyes, at his hair...he thought for a long minute. Khalil and Tony watched him closely.  
"OK." he said, slowly. "But only for a little bit. And we _cannot_ tell anyone."

~:~

Harley Witterbaum stood at the dining room table across from his carrier wife and wondered how he was going to fix this.  
"James, I **did not** tell him, I promise you. You have to just calm down - "  
"Fuck calming down!"

Because everything that had been available to break on the table had been broken already, James settled for kicking a chair into the corner. Harley watched him apprehensively. James had gotten more and more agitated with every day that Sheridan had been gone. What had started out as a 24-hour crying fit had escalated into a rollercoaster of rage and anguish that left Harley exhausted just from trying to watch. After that, the rampaging had started - half the dishes in the kitchen were gone now, and a window had been put out upstairs. Harley had slipped a sedative into James' water and considered tying him up.

When he woke again, things were worse. The rampage had gone into a full-out attack, and although Harley had luckily had the prescience to hide all the knives and weapons while James slept, it didn't defend him from the carrier's fists and vitriolic hate. When James had exhausted himself with storming against his husband, he had turned the anger on himself, and that was when Harley had really gotten scared.

There was a baby to think about, still - his baby, and he was not entirely sure that James wouldn't carry out the promise he'd made earlier. It was for different reasons, sure, but that was a rational comfort, and James was doing nothing rational at the moment.

The chair in the corner, under the wrath of James' right foot, broke and crumpled.   
"I need him, Harley, and _you_ took him away from me! You **stole** him from me!!"  
Harley shook his head.  
"Babe, I did not tell anyone, I promise, I swear, just - please, calm down. Please - "  
"Don't you beg me." James snarled, spitting at the chair, upon whom his rage was still directed. "I'll tell you when it's time to beg!"  
Then, without warning, the carrier stopped, froze, whimpered, and collapsed into a shivering, sobbing ball on the floor. Harley approached with caution.  
"Kill me." James was whispering, over and over again. "I can't stop this. Kill me."

~:~

Henrik was so distracted at dinner that Phidias made it his personal mission to sort out why. Finally, his husband set down his fork.  
"It's the rumors of the Dothan formula." he said, quietly. "They've begun to spread."  
Phidias frowned.  
"OK. So what does that mean?"  
Henrik's expression became distant, and he focused off into the desert beyond their balcony.  
"It means that the myth is beginning to collapse."  
Phidias shook his head, still not understanding.

Henrik laced his fingers together and rested his hands beside his plate.   
"There was an attack on the lab this morning. Someone attempted to get in." he met Phidias' eyes, and his expression was a grave one. "It was the myth that protected us all these years - the unspoken implication that we had some kind of a power - something to hold over all the rest. The warlords, the wanderers, the hideouts, the thieves - they all avoided our territory like the plague. They were afraid our power would come crushing them down. Our borders were safe, safer than any place in the desert protected by simple walls can be." Henrik unhooked his hands and pushed his fork around with one finger. "But this...this attack? It means that no one is afraid of us anymore."


	41. June 24 [Saturday]

"Ghali! Hurry up! It's going to be too hot to go to market by the time you get out of there!" Mahir banged his fist against the door to his eldest son's room. "You're making Anders wait!"

None of these statements seemed to have much of an effect on Ghali, because it was still another ten minutes before he appeared on the stairs, wearing a long natori and sandals, his eyes lined in black and his hair half-covered by a veil. Anders tried very hard not to make it apparent that he was staring, but Ghali looked...transfixing. Everything was so different about him now - everything seemed lighter, somehow. More delicate. Breakable.

Anders met Ghali's eyes; Ghali looked away immediately, as he'd been taught. To look a man directly in the eyes when they were alone like this was too forward - it would be improper behavior for an unwed carrier, and Ghali, since his change, had been careful to exhibit nothing but the highest degree of propriety. He guarded himself like a vestal virgin, intent on preventing any hint of indecency. Anders wasn't sure why - whether it was to avoid criticism from Mahir or Henrik, or whether there was something else at the heart of it.

"Are you ready now?"  
Ghali nodded and checked himself over one more time.  
"Ready. I think. Where are Khalil and Tony?"  
Anders jerked one thumb over his shoulder.  
"Out playing. They said they were going to take Caddy to the orchards, then they might ride to market with some of the workers."  
Ghali looked a little hurt.  
"Instead of going with us?"  
Anders gave a helpless shrug.  
"I think they just like to ride in the truck, is all." he paused. "Don't worry - they'll ride with us next time. And we can look for them when we get into town."  
Ghali grinned.  
"They'll be easy to find - we'll just look for wherever the trouble seems to be."

~:~

The baby had been making Adrian sick for three days now, and Sean had ordered him to bedrest because of it. But Adrian had been so broken up about his father's betrayal that Sean had been concerned about leaving him alone; they'd moved out of their new house and back into Adrian's parents' home - at least temporarily. Sean had concerns about that, too.

So far there had been no violence. Woodacre was under 24 hour surveillance, after all, and any actions out of the ordinary would not have been tolerated. Chaperones dotted the walking paths and roads. No vehicles not specifically authorized by the Union government were allowed in or out. The curfew was 10 p.m., and not one minute later. But that didn't help Sean feel safe.

It was only a matter of time, he knew. Retaliation might not come swiftly, but it would come. No one betrayed the secrets of Dothan and lived to tell about it. Retaliation would come. For William Mackenzie, certainly. Perhaps for Ren Mackenzie as well. And possibly, frighteningly, for Adrian.

Sean Wick was not about to let that happen.

~:~

Market was busy, but not any busier than on any other day they could have gone. Anders led the group (Ghali, one of the house eunuchs, and two chaperones), weaving his way between stalls and people and tables hot with food or teetering full with folk medicines. He guided Ghali in the manner to which they had become accustomed - with Anders stepping forward, glancing backwards, clearing spaces and making room for him, but never actually touching Ghali. For a carrier, clearly unwed, to be touched in public like that would have been unbearable for most of the crowd. As it was, Ghali passed through the crowd amidst a sea of gapes and stares and quiet, reverent mumbles.

They stopped repeatedly for household necessities, and once or twice for shiny baubles that had caught Ghali's eye. Then once or twice more when Ghali saw people who he recognized, and Anders saw that surge of yearning rise in him, and he moved forward, forgetting. He always recalled, at the critical moment, that it would be improper for a carrier to burst forth through a crowd and throw his arms around a man he hadn't seen in ten years. Whether that man had been like a brother to him would be irrelevant. The propriety was the indispensable affair. Human relationships would have to come second. And so Ghali saw, and he knew - locked eyes with his old friends across the crowded emporium, and then quietly ducked his head and kept walking.

The sun was growing hot overhead and many of the people were retreating inside when Ghali saw something that stopped him. He glanced back over his shoulder; Anders was busy, engaged deeply in negotiation over the price of some copper flakes. The eunuch was with him. The chaperones stood by, silent. Ghali looked again. Did his eyes deceive him? He frowned, and stepped forward into the alleyway between the rears of the tents. Closer, there was no mistaking. His eyes widened, and he rushed forward and grabbed the small boy by his arm. The chaperones lumbered slowly behind him, at a short distance.  
"Cadmus!" he hissed, low enough for only the boy to hear. Caddy nearly leapt out of his skin, twisting and wriggling to try to fight his attacker. Ghali shook his arm. "Be still! Be still, you little fool!"

Caddy was dressed in the ill-fitting clothes of a desert child - loose linen pants and shirt, long-sleeved to shield from the sun. His hair was knotted up inside of a small keffiyah. Ghali wanted to strangle him.  
"What are you doing here?!" he snapped. "Are you alone?! Do you know what could have happened to you?? What if someone found out?!"  
"Nobody's going to find out!" Caddy protested, then lowered his voice. "Nobody's going to recognize me. And I'm not alone - Tony and Khalil are with me."  
Ghali blinked in disbelief at the young teenager in his grip.  
"Tony... and Khalil...are with you? You are in the care...of children?!"  
Caddy didn't answer this directly, and Ghali just exhaled an angry breath and straightened up, adjusting his natori.  
"Enough. Come. We're going home." Caddy took a breath to protest, but Ghali cut him off. "Now."

He turned, one hand still on Cadmus's shirt, and realized instantly that something was wrong. The chaperones were gone, and a man's silhouette loomed in the entrance to the alley. Ghali squeezed tight to the younger boy's shoulder, and his entire body went rigid with apprehension. Caddy sucked in a quiet, but terrified breath and clung to Ghali's arm.

"There is no need," the man began, "To rush home now."  
Ghali pushed Cadmus back, behind him.  
"Caddy," he said, not taking his eyes off of the man in front of them, "Run."  
"Ghali," Caddy said, not letting go of the older carrier's arm, "I can't." Ghali couldn't risk a glance down at the younger boy, but he didn't have to - Caddy elaborated: "They're behind us, too."

Ghali swallowed and stepped as close to the younger carrier as he could manage. The man at the front of the alley was beginning to walk towards them - unhurried, which frightened Ghali more than anything else.  
"Caddy," he said, voice trembling but firm, "You. Need. To Run."

And then, with no further warning, he wrenched free from Cadmus' grip, spun to the nearest tent, and with all his strength, pushed. The table inside went toppling over, ripping the tent, shouting erupted, things began breaking, the man at the front of the alleyway charged him, and Ghali had just enough time to shove Caddy forward, see him vault the mess of the disturbed tent, hear himself scream for Anders, and see Cadmus disappear, running into the crowd.

Then the man's angry face was above him, lifting a hand, and Ghali felt the strike and then it all went black.

~:~

Harley Witterbaum came home to a military cordon, 16 separate police vehicles, upwards of 30 MPs, and a hostage situation taking place in his own front yard.

Aaron Soyinka came home to an empty room.

~:~

Ghali came to some time later, with his wrists and feet bound, and the road bouncing under him. Slowly, he tried to place himself. It was late afternoon. He was in a truck. Moving? Where? If he left the market, Henrik would never be able to rescue him.

Something smelled terrible; by minutes, he realized it was the man closest to him. He retched a little, leaning forward unbalanced.  
"Ai-ya! His necklace - look at his necklace!"  
The skinnier, grungier man on the other side of the truck bed leaned over Ghali, peering closely. His eyes widened.  
"It's a bloodstone." he grinned, showing crooked teeth. "A virgin."  
The smelly man smiled.  
"Oh, he will be pleased with this." he paused. "I could be pleased with this."  
The skinnier man sucked his teeth and pushed his companion back.  
"No! No! He'll know if we've broken him. He will kill us if he even suspects."  
Ghali felt a great sickness well up in his belly.  
The first man whined.  
"But we can touch, can't we? Just a touch."  
The other man scoffed.  
"If you want to risk your life. No, just leave him be. Let the sheikh decide what he's going to do with him."

~:~

It was a matter of minutes after the car pulled up to the house at Wafra, an anguished Anders and sobbing Caddy inside, that Mahir knew. Anders went to him first, with his head bowed in apology. Mahir couldn't speak, was too struck with anger and pain and such intense fear that he thought he would lash out and kill the both of them. Mahir went looking for Anthony first, but his husband was out somewhere, inspecting a field site, and could not be reached.

Mahir went next to Henrik.

He burst in Henrik and Phidias' bedroom door, ignoring the surprised cry of the eunuch who had just entered to bring them evening tea. Henrik looked up in annoyance, then worry, then fear.

"Mahir! What's wrong? What's happened?!"  
Mahir could barely speak for the loss of breath and the burgeoning tears, but he managed.  
"They have Ghali." he wept. "They took him."

~:~

It took Harley almost fifteen minutes to get through to someone who understood that he was the carrier's husband, and would speak to him.

"What's going on!?" he demanded of the MPs flanking him as they escorted him to the front.  
"There's a situation. With two carriers in the house. We don't know what happened, what set him off. There was a physical altercation in the front yard and one of the neighbors called us."  
Harley shook his head, confused, not understanding.  
"Two? There's only one one carrier who lives there - mine, James Witterbaum."  
The MP shook his head gravely.  
"Then must be a neighbor or something. Because there are definitely two: your carrier, and the carrier whose belly he's got a knife to."  
One of the younger MPs came running up just then.  
"Sir! He's asking for his husband." the man paused to catch his breath, then repeated, "He wants his husband."

There was no way that Harley could have ever been prepared for the scene that awaited him at the break in the crowd. There were MPs, kneeling behind cars and barriers and riot shields, crouched and lying down and standing and all pointing some manner of weapon at James. James, for his part, was standing on the front walkway, light glinting off the butcher knife he held as it pressed against the other carrier's bare skin. His other arm was around the carrier's neck, pressing him against James' body like a shield, keeping the MPs from getting a clear shot. Harley recognized the face of the other carrier immediately - Sheridan Soyinka.  
He moved to go forward, but one of the MPs stopped him.  
"We don't have a clear shot. Not to wound. Stun guns are too high-risk." the MP paused, searched Harley's face. "They both say they're pregnant."  
Harley nodded.  
"They are."  
The MP shook his head.  
"Then we've got no clear shot right now."  
Harley wasn't sure what he was being asked to do. He stared at the MP, then looked back up at James.  
"I'll talk to him."

He went forward.

"Jamie? Baby?"  
James jerked around at the sound of his husband's voice, causing Sheridan to go flailing with him.  
"Get away from me!" he shouted, and Harley saw that his eyes were fevered.  
"I told you not to do it." he said, his voice hitching. "I told you not to try to take him away from me."  
Harley shook his head.  
"OK. OK. I won't. I won't take him away from you." he stepped forward, which made James rear back and press the knife more deeply into Sheridan's skin. Sheridan cried out. "James - "  
"Shutup!" he tightened the arm around Sheridan's neck. "Shut up! It's not going to work."  
Harley tried to keep his voice calm and reasonable.  
"James, you're hurting him."  
James shook his head.  
"No, I'm not." he kissed the side of Sheridan's head; Sheridan whimpered. "I'm not, I'm not. I won't hurt you, baby."  
Harley tried to step forward again.  
"Jamie - "  
James jerked the two of them away, twisting, his grip on Sheridan's neck forcing the other carrier to bend backwards.  
"Stay back! I told you this would happen, Harley! I told you I would do it. I'll kill this baby!"

Sheridan began crying more hysterically now, as Harley struggled to make sense of what James was saying.  
"Jamie, I didn't do anything. Nothing's happening. What's wrong?!"  
James cut him a vicious glare.  
"I heard you! On the phone! You made my appointment. You want to cut me up!"  
the last part was shouted desperately, ragged. Behind him, Harley heard the MPs growing restless. They wanted this scene over now. Harley shook his head.  
"Jamie, you've got it all wrong. It wasn't the clinic, it was - "  
"No, I don't have it wrong!" he shouted, making the knife press deeper, nicking the skin of Sheridan's belly and making him squeal. "I'm sorry." he kissed the side of Sher's face again. "I'm sorry. They're just making me angry. It's not you. I'm not hurting you."  
Harley swallowed.  
"You _are_ hurting him, James. And you're scaring him."  
"I don't care!" James shouted, violently. "I don't care! Sher will forgive me. Sher always forgives me, don't you, Sher?" he looked back over at Harley. "He promised so. He said. He'll forgive me. Won't you?"  
James slackened his grip on Sheridan's neck just enough for the man to speak clearly.  
"No." he said, viciously. "I will never forgive you for this."

And then Harley was not sure what happened first - if he moved, or if Sheridan did, or if it was James, or the MPs who finally got a shot, but everything erupted into a frenzy of motion and emotion and all he recalled was lunging for Sheridan and missing him, losing a grasp on his skin but catching the carrier by the thin leather band around his waist. He yanked, down and away at the same time that James moved, just enough so that the knife passed by Sheridan's belly and Harley thought ' _Thank God, we are all safe_ ' and then there was the sizzling pop of stungun fire and a sudden, hot sharpness in his abdomen, and when he looked down at his side, the knife was in him instead. James arched, then collapsed under fire and Harley went down in shock more than pain and then MPs were swarming all three of them, and Harley's brain just simply shut down.

~:~

Adrian was woken in the middle of the night by his husband, urgently shaking the bed.  
"Adie, get up. Come on. Up."  
Adrian opened his eyes.  
"What's going on?"  
Sean had a candle lit, casting a dim light across the room. Adrian reached to turn on a lamp, but Sean stopped him.  
"No. No lamp."  
Adrian moved to sit up in bed, and his feet struck a suitcase.  
"Sean? What's going on?"  
Sean was dragging another suitcase towards the bedroom door.  
"You're having an incident. Intense pain. You need to go to a hospital." Adrian shook his head - this wasn't making sense. Sean dropped the suitcase by the door and turned back to him. "We're all leaving."  
Adrian sat bolt upright.  
"Did something happen?"  
Sean didn't answer directly.  
"Fake the pain. The ambulance is on its way. Ren and I will ride with you."  
Adrian's heart pounded.  
"What - what about the - "  
"The children will come along with an escort. Everything else is taken care of."  
Adrian repeated his question, now a demand.  
"But, Sean - what - did something happen?!"  
Sean stopped moving long enough to answer Adrian's question.  
"It's on the porch." he responded, quietly.

Dread welling in him, Adrian ran to the door, out of the room, down the hall and to the first window which looked onto the porch. He almost vomited.  
Callie, Will Mackenzie's dog, and all her puppies lay butchered across the wood.

He turned back to Sean, who was shaking his head.  
"We have to go. Tonight."

~

The children were confused, terrified. Sean led them out of the back door so they wouldn't have to pass the dogs. Ren and Adrian went out of the front with the EMTs, Adrian strapped to a gurney and Ren going quickly alongside him. Two government men in black suits snuck the suitcases out the back door, and loaded them into the back of a jeep.

The children and Sean all went into the ambulance with Adrian and Ren. The smallest ones began crying, and Ren tried to comfort them. They were mostly worried for Adrian, who was busy faking agonizing pain. Adrian asked for water, and took a minute to assure them he'd be alright.  
"Sean won't let anything happen to me." he told them. "I know he won't."

~

They traveled through the night to reach the place where Will Mackenzie was being held in custody. Ren was silent the entire time, save the few soothing words he spoke to his children. From the back of the ambulance, they had no view of where they were going, or how far. They sat in silence and waited.


	42. June 29

It worked.

Everything worked, and the young man who had been brought before Will Mackenzie like a lamb led to slaughter was successfully changed, resting now under observation. The doctors had elected to keep him under for most of it - to spare him the discomfort, they had said. The discomfort, they did not say, of knowing how close he was to death. But by now the young soldier was fine - he was awake and eating sweets and reading pamphlets about his life.

Will Mackenzie felt relieved at this, of course, but it was a relief bridled by the sharp edges of fear. The experiment was not an end. Only a very, very serious beginning. What had he done?

There was a meeting going on, right now, in one of those rooms so secure that they'd shoot you just for looking at the door. The meeting, Will knew, was to determine what to do with him. And what to do with Dothan.

To tell the truth, Will wasn't sure what he wanted them to decide.

His family was here now, shaken out of the reverie of Woodacre life by the upset of his confession. The government had given them two of the most luxurious holding suites they had, and now they were all clustered in them, silent and waiting. Sean and Adrian shared one room with the Normand, the eldest; Will and Ren and the youngest Mackenzies took the other. Adrian slept most of the day now, and the children were restless. Ren was quiet and somber, as if in mourning, and his wariness unnerved Will.

~:~

Harley woke up in the same hospital room he'd been waking up in for days now. Every day it was the same. He tried to sit up; pain shot through his abdomen. He gasped and called for meds, and the agony eased off a little.

Aaron Soyinka was sitting in the chair across the room from him. Harley hesitated for a minute.   
"Is he - "  
"Yes." Aaron Soyinka looked up only briefly from the newspaper in his lap. "He's dead."

Every day it was the same.


	43. July 3

In the morning, a package arrived via messenger. It was heavy, cumbersome, and swaddled up in torn linens. Henrik pawed through the shreds of cloth impatiently, wanting only to get inside. Anthony arrived from his study, joining Henrik in the hallway. The messengers waited, anxiously, to be paid.

Beneath the linens was a silver box, ornately decorated and carved, measuring almost an arm's length. Henrik hesitated, knowing already what was inside. But it would have to be opened; they had to know for sure. Anthony could not look away; he was transfixed by the long silver box. Henrik lifted the lid; right away, he shut it.

Anthony made a sound of anguish, and ran his hands over his head. Anders had come down the stairs, and was and standing by, watching. Henrik looked up at him and saw his son's shoulders sag, just the slightest bit. So he, too, knew.

Henrik paid the messengers and gestured that they should go.

~

"So it was a box?" Phidias asked carefully, trying to follow but feeling two steps behind. Being an anthropologist, he was aware of the power of items sometimes - fetishes, lucky charms, representative objects. But this one he couldn't fathom. "Well, what was in the box?"  
Henrik was staring out across their balcony, into the darkness.  
"Ghali's blood. On a sheet."  
Phidias felt a chill go through him.  
"Someone's sending you a message." Henrik nodded. Phidias' skin prickled. "They're telling you that they killed him?"  
Henrik shook his head.  
"No. Thankfully." Henrik blinked; Phidias caught the flicker of motion across the dim patio. "The package is telling us, 'We have your carrier.' And the wedding sheets are telling us, 'And you won't get him back.'"

~:~

They were deploying a special team today; no decisions had been made yet, the representatives assured Will Mackenzie. Nothing was certain, but the higher-ups wanted more intel, and so they were deploying a special team to go and investigate the rest of Dothan.

Slowly, Will Mackenzie was beginning to understand. He had been downgraded, he noticed, from speaking with the decision-makers themselves to speaking with their representatives. The laboratory he worked in had been cut by two staff. The people he spoke to smiled more and told him less.  
He was being put aside.  
There must be another offer on the table.


	44. July 9 [Sunday]

There had been nothing more to do for Ghali but wait, and so Henrik had busied himself with his lab and the tests he'd run on Baby Angstrom. The sequencing was different this time than any of the last, but he couldn't seem to ignite it. Turning sections on and off seemed to make no difference; he couldn't account for the hereditary resilience of Phidias' inclination to change. He stared at the little statuette of a golden elephant on his desk and saw nothing.

Eventually, he gave up and went out to the top level to step outside and have a smoke.

The Firm had promised three weeks. Twenty-one days, and they were burning through like a short match. One week had gone already; the Union government would be calling for answers soon. He, Anthony, Tyson, Everett, and Mahir had been in the laboratory night and day; nothing was yet yielded. But it was long work, and the machines were already hot and overloaded; it was becoming more and more difficult to keep everything running. Henrik felt nervous; if he was honest with himself, a lot of things had gone right the first time he'd made the Phantom - a lot of luck had gone into that first batch. He could only hope that Providence would favor him again.

~:~

Sheridan packed boxes and didn't talk to his husband. Across the room, Aaron Soyinka packed boxes and didn't talk to his carrier wife. There was nothing to be said just then, anyway. Sheridan had lapsed into silence again, and Aaron hated to feel as if he were talking to himself.

Soyinka looked across the room again, to where Sheridan knelt, fingering some minor article before putting it away, his belly just beginning to stand out over his lap, the outline of the waist amulet just barely visible through his shirt.

Many things had collapsed, Aaron marveled, but not this.

It still startled him how something so fragile could sustain so much. But that was the miracle of it - Sheridan was stronger than anyone gave him credit for. And that strength had saved them both.

Aaron looked around the main room of the house one more time. It would be good to be back home, back in the A.W.N.S. And Sheridan might like it there, too - the freedoms they allowed carriers were greater, and more liberal. And his father would be nearby, to help with the baby when it came, and all the changes that came shackled to that.

Sheridan was packing something of James' now - Soyinka knew because the carrier paused, stroked the item as if hoping it contained a dead man's ghost, then put it away again. Soyinka recognized this gesture because he did it, too. Packing up the life of a half-dead man was painful, too.

Harley was ranting, now, when they went to go see him. The doctors had kept him for observation after he'd recovered from his injuries - they had been worried about self-harm. At first, Soyinka hadn't understood why. But Harley ranted at them now, and swore that James was still alive, that whatever had been in him was still alive. That it was in Harley now. Eventually, the doctors had told Soyinka it was best not to upset him; daily visits were no longer necessary. So Sheridan and Aaron Soyinka had gone back to the B&B, then back to the house, and begun packing up four men's lives.


	45. July 11

That day, the contract arrived for Ghali. There was the thick manuscript of the marriage papers, along with a note, folded small and written in Ghali's own hand.   
_I am safe,_ it said. _Azim treats me well._

Henrik sat in his study and read over the papers with Anthony and Mahir.   
"So what's the name?" Anthony asked, his expression and voice tense, as they had been for days now.  
Henrik scanned down the paper and read aloud: Sheikh Azim al-Mansour al-Khalid al-Aera.  
Anthony slammed his hand down on the table.  
"Fucking watermongers! I should have known." Anthony stood, scraping his chair backwards across the floor and fluttering a few papers on the desk. "I knew it was them. They're the ones, Henrik - they're the ones responsible for that attack on the laboratory. I knew it. They were testing our boundaries. They knew what they wanted." Anthony stalked over to the bookcase, then back. "They planned this."  
Henrik looked very seriously up at his friend.  
"What's done is done. We must begin looking forward."  
Anthony put both hands on the edge of the desk and leaned forward, menacing Henrik.  
"'What's done is done'? That's it? That's all you have to say? About our son? About Ghali??"

Henrik exchanged an uneasy glance with Mahir, who was reaching out to calm his husband.  
"I'm only speaking of facts, Anthony. The attack, taking Ghali - we can't change those things. We can only act from here." Henrik frowned. "We have to see the larger picture - find out what's happening on a grander scale."  
Anthony scoffed.  
"You know damn well what's happening. It's the same thing that's always happening around here. There's an uprising on the way."  
Henrik shook his head.  
"No. Not necessarily. Not here. We can stop that."  
Anthony rolled his eyes.  
"Can we? There's more than a little anger out there right now. People are hungry for what we have, and they don't understand why we haven't given it to them. We're not their people; we don't belong here. That's what they're saying, and in a way, they're right. We haven't given them carriers, and we can't, and so they've decided that they're just going to come and take them. Letting Ghali change was the last straw." Anthony paused, and for a moment, he looked regretful. Then his voice was steely again. "This is the desert, Henrik."  
Mahir felt compelled to interject at this point.  
"The desert is not your only enemy, Tony. Attacks come from all sides." he looked at Henrik. "What has the Union told you about the other Phantom?"  
Henrik lifted his hands wide.  
"Same thing they always tell us. Nothing."  
"They're sure it's not your formula?"  
"They wouldn't have called if it was."  
Mahir furrowed his brow, thought about this.  
"We're weakening." he said, suddenly, then relapsed into silence.

Anthony spoke again.  
"It's time to get out, Henrik. Time to call it a day."  
Henrik shook his head.  
"No. This is Wafra. This is home. We remain."  
Anthony looked at him sadly.  
"Bombings and kidnappings are a hell of a way to live, man. Our island is eroding. We can't make it out here much longer."  
Silence reigned for a moment, and then Henrik reached out and pushed the marriage contract across the desk towards Anthony and Mahir.  
"Perhaps," he said, pensively, "you should read it."

Mahir was the first to understand.  
"No. Whatever he wants, don't give it to him. That man is dangerous."  
Henrik lifted an eyebrow.  
"More dangerous as an enemy than a friend."  
Mahir shook his head again.  
"No. Talk about a security leak. And it won't be whatever number they put on that paper, you know. It'll be one carrier, then two, then three, then their cousins need one, then their uncles...it'll never stop. No. Sign that, and we might as well burn Wafra down ourselves. Do you understand what I'm saying to you, Henrik?"  
"How many," Anthony asked, leaning in past Mahir, "Did they ask for?"  
Henrik paused, glanced between the two men, and answered Anthony.  
"Seventeen."  
"In how long?"  
"A year."  
"Who provides the bodies?"  
"They will."  
"And we get?"  
Henrik twirled a finger in a circle on the top of the document.  
"Anything we want, really. Water. Guns. Materials. Access to their library, their samples. Manpower, if we needed it." Henrik paused. "And, most importantly, I think, their loyalty."  
Mahir shook his head again, preparing to protest, but Anthony put a hand on his shoulder to keep him from speaking.  
"Their loyalty?" he inquired.  
Henrik nodded.  
"Yes. We'd be entitled, it seems, to a rather high degree of...protection."  
Mahir burst forward.  
"Henrik, no! This is bad! This is a bad idea! Trust me - these aren't people you want to get mixed up with! This is not a world you want to be a part of!"  
Anthony quieted him again.  
"And they just want the carriers?"  
Henrik shook his head.  
"Access to Wafra, as guests. Collaboration in our research. A few more marriages, down the line, to strengthen ties." he pushed the papers a little closer to Anthony. "Al-Aera is interested, it appears, in legitimizing his empire. He thinks Wafra can help."

"Anthony, Henrik, please listen to me," Mahir pleaded with them. "I don't think we can trust Al-Aera. They kidnapped Ghali, and if Anthony is right, they're responsible for the attack on us earlier. They haven't done anything to prove to us that they're trustworthy, or serious about this alliance at all. They haven't done anything to show us where their interests truly lie."

Henrik considered this for a moment, and his eyes deepened as he stared at the document.  
"Well," he said, eventually, "We could certainly ask them to do so."

~:~

Time passed slowly in government care. Daily, little changed. Ren had requested some books brought to the suite so that he could continue the younger ones' schooling, and had been obliged. That occupied the day now; with no chores to be done, there was little else. Adrian had improved in condition, and was now feeling his old energy return. This pleased Sean, although having no contact with his own parents did not. Will Mackenzie had asked him about that.  
"Didn't want to leave." Sean had said, "When I asked 'em. They didn't want to go." he shrugged, and looked off towards the bedroom door. "I couldn't make 'em."

They had had no word on Woodacre since they'd come here, but Will hoped they were still alright. There was a media screen in their suites, but it had no outside contact, and so only played programs that they had to request from the guards and representatives.

Will continued working in the lab, although things seemed to be regressing. A mouse had been turned, successfully, but it had taken twice as long as it usually did, and that was worrisome. He wondered if the formula was incorrect - if his memory had been faulty. Or if the entity was weakening.

His lab had shrunk again, too - only two lab technicians remained now, and they seemed skeptical of him at all times. He had had no word on what happened to the last success story, the young cadet. He wished he had some way of knowing what was going on outside of his little white world of the lab interior - was the cadet OK? Was Woodacre OK? Would Dothan be OK? He hadn't even been able to see the news lately. He felt as if he and his family were trapped on an island, with no means of rescue, the world passing them by. What was happening? Who was the other offer on the table? What was going on out there?


	46. July 15 [Saturday]

Sheikh Al-Aera agreed to meet with them in exchange for two carriers; he would bring his own bodies, but Henrik had to bring the Phantom. Mahir demanded that Al-Aera also bring Ghali, so that they could see he was unharmed. Al-Aera responded that Ghali was still adjusting, and the doctors felt it was best if he was not disturbed. Besides, tradition dictated that Al-Aera had a month with his new bride before a visit to the family was required. Barely three weeks had passed.

At daybreak on the fifteenth, four stout desert vehicles arrived, spinning fat wheels over the sand. They slowed to a stop at the front of Wafra, and Al-Aera's guards unloaded first, then messengers and help-men, then Al-Aera's aides, his second-in-command, and, last, the sheikh himself. The last cars carried more guards, four of whom had been tasked with watching the two young men who Al-Aera had brought to be transformed.

Henrik met them all on the stairs of the main house. The sheikh spoke first, tilting his head under his keffiyah in the curious way that he had. The orange of the rising sun sheltered his face, and Henrik almost had to squint to make out his features.  
"Mr. Angstrom." he said, in a rolling, measured voice, "A pleasure to meet you, at last."

Henrik met him eye-to-eye and extended a hand. Al-Aera took it in a firm grip. The hand that touched Henrik's was calloused, but fine-boned.

Abruptly, there was some shouting and a scuffle towards the end of the arriving party. Henrik and Al-Aera both looked over to see one of the two carriers-to-be trying to wrench free of his guards. Henrik spared a quick once-over for the two boys. They did not look like Al-Aera's people; they had probably been harvested from the near-feral child colonies that roamed the outskirts of the city. They were dirty, seemed confused, and looked more than a little frightened to be led inside the house.

Calmly, almost patiently, the guards were restraining the flailing one, until a shorter man carrying a rifle came up, barked orders at them, and backhanded the carrier across the face. The young man paused, as if in shock, then his face tightened and he spit at the man who had hit him.

The tension rose, the short man lunged for the carrier, Al-Aera shouted another order, and four guns cocked and trained on the aggressor. Wisely, the short man froze, and said something in a quiet voice to the sheikh. Al-Aera answered loudly, and another guard stepped forward, took the short man's rifle from him, and returned to his place.  
Al-Aera turned back to Henrik and smiled evenly, then gestured to the front door of Wafra.  
"Shall we?"

~:~

"And have we heard back from the Swede?" the president asked, moving briskly down the hallway towards the next meeting room. A slew of attending officials and aides trailed behind him. "Any new developments? Any solutions?"  
His attending aide had to almost jog to keep up.  
"No, sir. Nothing yet. They still have time on their deadline, though."  
The president grunted.  
"I want it sooner rather than later. This thing is volatile enough as it is. If Mackenzie's a leak, there may be more. Find out everything you can about Dothan. Who's in it, where they are, who might know the formula as well as Mackenzie. Has he said anything?"  
The aide shrugged.  
"Only that he was the Keeper of Woodacre. That Woodacre was the flagship. That the others didn't know the secrets."  
The president took a sharp left turn and almost lost half his attendants to the south wall.   
"Well, he may be protecting someone. Find out what his interests are. Interrogate him if you have to. But I want answers, and I want to know that this thing's contained, and I want to be sure that the people we're working with are really the guys in charge. Get me intel. Understood?"  
The aide scribbled away and nodded frantically.  
"Understood."

~:~

"So I take it," Al-Aera began, spooning sugar into his tea on the veranda, "That you don't trust me."

Henrik raised an eyebrow at the impertinence of the question. The man sitting across from him was at least ten years his junior; surprising, and difficult for Henrik to understand. The face looked unscarred - not a man of battle? Had Al-Aera been a street child who had gained favor amongst his people? Or had he come into his inheritance through descent, and maintained it somehow? Still, it was unusual to be a patriarch for one so young...

"Trust, as you know, is difficult to gain." Henrik responded simply. Al-Aera sipped his tea and set the cup gently back down.  
"We are family now."  
Henrik bristled visibly at that, but his diplomatic nature kept him from fighting Al-Aera on it.  
"Of course. And families look out for each other, as I understand."   
Al-Aera nodded eagerly - a bit too eagerly.  
"Yes, of course."  
Henrik blinked at him, then looked away.  
"We've had some troubles here lately. I'm sure you've heard."  
Distance returned to Al-Aera's eyes, and his voice was neutral.  
"Trouble?"  
Henrik nodded around his teacup, swallowed, and set it down.  
"An attack. Terrible. On our laboratory."  
Al-Aera's voice tightened.  
"That is terrible, cousin. I hadn't heard."  
Sensing the weakness, Henrik seized the reins.  
"I'd like to ensure it doesn't happen again. It could be devastating to our work here. It could reduce our production by - well, it could reduce it completely."  
Al-Aera understood immediately. He took another sip of his tea.  
"I'm sure it was an isolated incident." he paused, as if unsure whether to say more. "I feel certain it won't happen again."  
Henrik nodded.  
"Excellent."

Al-Aera shifted his spoon slightly on its saucer. It looked almost like a nervous habit. Henrik wondered if Al-Aera was nervous. Perhaps the answer would show itself, if they let the silence continue. Moments passed. Abruptly, the sheikh asked,  
"Is there anything else?"  
Henrik smiled into his tea and set the cup down once more.  
"As a matter of fact," he said, slowly, "I've been having some trouble with a group over in the Union. Just a minor squabble, but I wondered," Henrik asked, folding his hands together on the table, "If you might know of anything that could be done about it."

~:~

Nightmares woke Adrian from his late afternoon nap, and he jolted awake in a fright. Sean was across the room, watching the video screen passively. At Adrian's gasp and sudden movement, he looked up.  
"You alright?"  
Adrian put a hand to his chest and tried to get his breath back.  
"Fine. Just...bad dreams."  
Sean looked sympathetically at him, then got up from his chair and came over to sit on the bed. Adrian scooted closer to him, grateful for the human closeness. Adrian was shirtless under the sheets, and when Sean's hand brushed his bare skin, he shivered. Sean deepened his touch.  
"Normand?" Adrian asked, suddenly.  
"Out. With Ren and the rest. They requested dinner outdoors tonight." Sean slid his hand down to Adrian's hip, pushing the carrier onto his back.  
"I told them we would be late joining them."  
Adrian looked away, then blinked up at his husband.  
"It's been a long time."  
Sean nodded.  
"I know."

Then they didn't speak much; there was the slam-rush of skin against skin and Adrian's arching under Sean's steady hand, and the coming together of the two of them, desperate and grasping, and Sean's anger and fear and the surging guilt of two lonely survivors, floating unattached through the world.


	47. July 18

The nice thing about Al-Aera's exchange was that in addition to everything else, the demand of two carriers gave Henrik two more bodies to work on. He pored over his notes, going through the classic Phantom models first, then the more recent, complex ones that Tyson and Everett had created, then Mahir's and Denis's, then his own. Denis had identified some particularly influential molecules that he felt might be the catalysts, but Mahir had pointed to some peculiarities of Phidias' physiology that he felt might be to blame.

Henrik had been up half the night before Al-Aera arrived, synthesizing those two thoughts into something he felt had potential. Now, he looked forward to testing his hypothesis with eagerness and concern. Al-Aera was expecting results, another pressure on top of the greater one of the Union government.

The younger one would go first, Henrik decided. The change should show itself more quickly on him, anyway, and if separated from each other, perhaps the older one wouldn't have so much fight in him. They stuck close to each other, as it was - they might be brothers, as far as Henrik could tell. He'd inquired about their history; if Al-Aera had picked them up recently, there might be some more information on the two. But none of the guards had any information beyond the fact that the boys had been fed, watered, and dewormed twice. Eventually, Henrik was able to understand that both were promised to a distant ally in the south, and so the general consensus of Al-Aera's people had been to take as little interest in them as possible.

The two boys had been sedated, bathed, and dressed in simple robes, and were under observation in two of the patient rooms in the laboratory. In the cold room, Henrik prepared the first sample. Al-Aera watched him; the man had been hanging around for two days now, lurking in the lab and in the hallways of Wafra. Sometimes he occupied himself in the library, and at other times ran exercises with his men. But right now he was lingering, touching things around the lab, and waiting for the procedure to begin.

"It will be quick?" the sheikh asked, suddenly, crossing the room to Henrik's side. Henrik nodded.  
"It requires only one injection."  
"And then?"  
"And then we take a sample from the same one, and try to resynthesize the formula."  
Al-Aera raised a skeptical brow.  
"You don't have enough of the serum for both?"  
Henrik threw a quick, annoyed glance at the sheikh.  
"We have enough. But this is a rare opportunity. We want to make the most of it."  
Al-Aera relaxed.  
"Explain this to me."

Henrik wasn't entirely sure he wanted to do that, but in for a penny, in for a pound. Al-Aera was already in the lab, anyway, and if he were, in fact, going to be conducting some of their overseas operations, it might be best for him to have almost-full disclosure.  
"The Phantom," Henrik began, "has two weaknesses. First, it requires a base made from the tissue of a natural carrier."  
"Wait, that is the formula?" Al-Aera interrupted. "The Phantom is a carrier's blood?"  
Henrik narrowed his eyes.  
"No, the Phantom is not a carrier's blood. If it were so simple, don't you think someone else would have figured it out by now?"  
Al-Aera was silent. Henrik continued.  
"As I said, the basis of the serum must be the blood of a naturally-changed carrier. There can be no second generation synthesis. The Phantom cannot be made from the tissue of a carrier changed with the Phantom."  
Al-Aera blinked.  
"And your second weakness?"  
Henrik didn't take the bait in the sheikh's phrasing, and went on.  
"The second is that no carrier changed with the Phantom has ever borne a natural carrier in the next generation."  
Al-Aera nodded slowly, understanding dawning.  
"It's a self-limiting change." he said, quietly. "So if the use of this became widespread...we would be forever dependent."  
Henrik nodded as he prepared the swabs and syringes on a steel tray in front of him.  
"Almost. Not completely. Spontaneous changes might still occur in those who hadn't taken it. But to those who had, no carriers would be born. If it became widespread enough..."  
"Why not?" Al-Aera demanded suddenly. "Why doesn't it work?"

Henrik glared at the man as if he were a particularly bothersome breed of desert animal.  
"Obviously," he said, coolly, "I don't know."   
Henrik double-checked the layout before him and glanced at the clock.   
"But, recently, the Firm has been working on a new serum. It's untested, but I plan to use it today. And we are expecting better results."  
Al-Aera looked evenly at Henrik.  
"You need better results, you mean."  
Henrik fretted with one of the swabs.  
"Yes. We need better results." he looked up, calmly, at the sheikh. "It would keep things cleaner. If we can surpass the other serum, then the Union will handle the rest. They'll determine the old serum to be a threat to humanity, and they'll move hell and earth to destroy it. This crazy man claiming to know the secrets of Donovan or whoever will mean nothing to anyone, which may be better for him even than it will be for us."  
Al-Aera must have understood, because he was quiet and thoughtful for a moment.  
"And if it doesn't work?"  
"Then the situation will have gotten out of hand."  
"And what shall I tell my men? If we find that the situation has gotten out of hand?"  
Henrik paused.  
"Tell them to clean it up."

~:~

Sean wrote a letter to his parents on spare scraps of old government letterhead and sent it out through the representatives who visited daily. Ren and Adrian were sitting with the children in the other room, working quietly through some workbooks and amusing themselves with conversation. Will Mackenzie had been gone all day and not been back, but there was an anticipatory spin to the air - a sort of frantic waiting, as if they all teetered on the very thin edge of something.

It unsettled Sean. He watched a video chip and slept through most of the afternoon.


	48. July 21

Three days. That was all it had taken. Henrik had been impressed with the thing himself. Three days, and the first young man had been completely changed. The speed with which the new serum worked was astounding. But what was far more important - the mark of genius, the hand of Providence, the intervention of something wonderful - was that the second young man had begun to change, too.

~:~

Three days and still, Will Mackenzie had not been back. The guards gave no information, and they'd had no contact with any of the familiar representatives since he'd disappeared. Ren had tried to be brave the first day, for the children, but on the second he'd broken down so badly that orderlies had come to remove him. They had explained to Sean and Adrian that such an emotive response could be having negative effects on the health of his fetus, and whatever other issues might be going on, successful carrier pregnancies remained a priority for the Union.

Sean had argued with them and tried, unsuccessfully, to calm Ren down, but in the end they had superseded his authority and taken Ren out on a stretcher. The younger children had begun to cry; Normand and Adrian tried to quiet them, not wanting to attract the attention of the orderlies to them as well.

After they had gone, and Adrian had taken Matthew and Devin away for a calming bath, Normand turned to Sean.  
"I'm glad I'll never become a carrier." he said, his voice vehement. "I'd rather be dead than be like that."

~:~

Henrik and Anthony broke out the best bottles of champagne they had to celebrate the success of the new formula. Dinner was laid out in the courtyard, and the house was lit up with torches. Mahir had been the one to make the call to the Union - "It's about damn time" had been the response, but it was good enough for them because it meant that they had won.

Al-Aera's men had snuck some of the house wine into the orchards - the sheikh had noticed, but let the indiscretion pass. Mahir and Anthony had been back to their usual selves, and spent half of the afternoon holed up in their bedroom, having instructed the children to knock at Phidias and Henrik's instead.

Denis, Josef, Cary and Amin had finally sent word that they would arrive in Wafra that week, and the news of their return sent another wave of excitement through the house. Phidias, for his part, had been feeling better than he had most of the month, and did his best to join in the revelrous air, playing horseshoes out in the courtyard with Tyson, helping to make dinner with Mahir, and even indulging Henrik in a more private celebration, mid-day in his office.

Al-Aera watched the celebrations with a detached air that Phidias wondered at, but ultimately ignored, too absorbed in the celebrations himself. There was a break of fever in the house now - a lifting of the dark veil that had held the house in thrall in the past weeks. The matters of the day - Ghali, Al-Aera, Cadmus, could be spoken of now, addressed with great attention because there was no meaner beast lurking - no larger monster.

Anders had spent most of his time in the kitchen, helping with the meal - preparing some kind of small animals he had brought in himself from a hunt. Phidias had been watching his stepson carefully since the kidnapping, and saw that although Anders appeared to be in good spirits, he drank little, ate less, and spoke to almost no one. Cadmus had been much the same. At some point, Phidias had gone into Henrik's office, looking for Mahir, and had discovered Caddy crying into the edge of his sleeve. Explanation had revealed that Anders hadn't spoken to him since Ghali had been taken, and Caddy feared that the silence between them was becoming too thick to wade across.

Phidias hadn't had many words of comfort to offer to that - he only held Caddy while he cried that it wasn't his fault, it wasn't his fault.

~:~

"Well? What'd the loony say?" the vice-president asked brusquely, striding into the observation room. On the other side of the glass, Will Mackenzie lay unconscious.  
The attendant interrogators snapped to attention, then offered,  
"He told us there might be a leak, sir."  
The vice-president raised an eyebrow.  
"A leak? Where? Did you put someone on it?"  
The interrogator nodded firmly.  
"Yes, sir. There was an incident, about 12 years prior - a kid in the compound gained partial knowledge of a number of the rituals they used in Dothan. He attempted to perform one of the ceremonies himself, failed, and was excommunicated. Mackenzie said he had seemed unstable when he left, but didn't seem to know how he'd gotten the knowledge or where the kid - sorry, the man - might be now."  
The general grunted.  
"Well. Did you get a name?"  
The interrogator nodded smartly, eager to deliver the information.  
"Yes, sir! Name is James Andrew Milton."  
The general clasped his hands behind his back.  
"And he's the only leak?"  
"Only one that Mackenzie reported."  
The general mused over this as he looked through the glass at the beaten man before him.  
"Good. Then find him."

~:~

After the meal, Al-Aera approached Henrik across the courtyard. Sensing his mood, Henrik stiffened, and Al-Aera stepped forward so that they were shoulder to shoulder and linked arms with Henrik, closing the space between them to create some degree of privacy.   
"We should speak." he said, simply.


	49. July 23

Late in the night, during a hot week in late July, the Woodacre compound burst, spun out into slivers in the darkness, came back to earth, and burned to the ground. Six were dead, no carriers or children among them. Five were wounded. Twenty-seven were missing.

~:~

Aaron Soyinka looked up at the clock again. One hand of it ticked over onto the 4. Twenty minutes left until visiting hours started. He glanced over his shoulder at the nurses' station - would they let him go in early? Probably not. He turned his attention back to the newspaper and kicked the box between his feet idly.

Across the room from him, elevators opened and a man in a gray suit stepped out, a simple red notepad clasped in his left hand. He looked up at Aaron Soyinka and smiled genially.  
"Waiting for a patient?"  
Aaron nodded uncertainly - was this man a doctor?  
The man gave a tilt of his head, then moved on to the nurses' station, briefly consulting his little red notepad. Curious, Aaron listened in on the conversation. There had been something about the man...  
"I'm looking for a patient here, one with criminal charges?" his quiet voice drifted across the room. "Last name Witterbaum, first name James?"  
The older nurse at the desk shook his head.  
"Sorry, sir. That patient's no longer with us."  
"Really?" The man in the gray suit asked casually, pulling something from his pocket and showing it to the nurse, "He's been moved?"  
The nurse shook his head helplessly.  
"No, sir. Dead."  
Even from across the room, Soyinka could see the man's shoulders tense.  
"I see." he said, slowly. "And there are no other Witterbaums here? No James Wetterbaums or Stephen James Witterbaums or other men by...similar names?"   
The nurse frowned, confused.  
"I'm not sure, sir -"  
"It's just that this particular gentleman has been very difficult to get a hold of. He has a habit of changing his name."  
"Well, I assure you, sir, James Witterbaum is deceased, and if you - "  
"You know, I think," the man said, interrupting the nurse but smiling broadly, "I think I'd just like to take a look at your files."

~:~

"First things first. We told you to wait. We told you no action until we had results on the serum. We told you that we would not authorize an attack unless it was absolutely necessary." A fist struck the heavy wooden desktop. "Never, _ever_ , ever are you to ever again act on behalf of Wafra without the Firm's express, written approval."

Al-Aera barely refrained from rolling his eyes.  
"Naturally not. This incident was...an aberration."  
"Of course it was. How much of Dothan did your men destroy?"  
Anthony was speaking, leaning one hip against the large wooden desk, arms crossed over his chest. His motions were quick, solid - he was a man in charge. On matters of science, Henrik might take the lead, but on matters of security, Anthony was captain. Al-Aera glanced towards Mahir and Phidias.  
"Might I have some tea?" he asked Mahir, who looked immediately affronted.  
"The carriers are not here to bring you tea." Anthony snapped. "Answer the question. How much of Dothan was destroyed?"

Al-Aera gave the two carriers one last, hopeful look, and then turned his full attention to Anthony.   
"Six compounds, including the one that your interloper came from."  
Henrik swore under his breath. Anthony continued to stare at Al-Aera.  
"Casualties. How many dead?"  
"Thirty-three."  
"Wounded?"  
"Fifteen."  
"Missing?"  
A small smile graced Al-Aera's face.  
"Twenty-three from Woodacre, seventeen from Cape Fortune, twenty from Middletown, seven from Nine Points, eighteen from Lincoln, and four from the Southern Peninsula. All healthy, all viable. And their children, forty-one in all."  
Comprehension dawned on all five men at once.  
"Son of a bitch." Anthony said, shaking his head. "You goddamn liar, you were always going to attack."

Al-Aera folded a corner of his robes, then unfolded it.  
"It was not a part of my plan from the beginning. But when the opportunity arose..." he raised an eyebrow at Anthony. "And although I did not make a full disclosure, it seems I was in good company." he looked specifically at Henrik this time. "I had my own scientists review your files on the Phantom - the possibility of success was far lower than you led me to believe. The danger to Wafra was immense, and so I felt it was necessary to ensure our survival by taking preemptive action against Dothan."

Anthony leaned forward, his crossed arms making his muscles bulge.   
"And you lined your own pockets in the meantime."  
Al-Aera turned his gaze to Anthony calmly.  
"You agreed to a deal, Mr. Duke. I provide the bodies, and you provide the serum. You never placed any stipulations on which bodies those were. The Dothan carriers are healthy, stable, and raised into a culture which will make it far easier for them to adapt to our lifestyle." Al-Aera looked amused for a moment. "There have been...difficulties with attempting to adapt one of our own into a proper carrier's position."  
Mahir looked up, suddenly, realizing that he was speaking about Ghali.  
"What did you do to him?" he demanded, in fear and anger.  
Al-Aera held up his hands and shook his head.  
"Ghali is fine." he paused. "But there is a fire in him which will not go out, even though he endeavors to please me." Al-Aera made a face of deep thought. "You trained him well, Mahir - have no fear of that. But I believe he was too long a man of the desert, and there is a spirit in him which cannot be contained." Coming out of his musing, he shrugged. "Ghali suits me well. But my men may not be so patient. Better for them to have the Dothan carriers, who come more easily to our ways."

Anthony shook his head in amazement.  
"I expect you've already made arrangements for their transport."  
Al-Aera smiled fully this time.  
"They should arrive at Wafra within the week."  
"And security?"  
Al-Aera lifted his hands.  
"All is well, Mr. Duke. All is well."

Anthony shook his head again, but Henrik, already having overcome his surprise at Al-Aera's underhandedness, was taking a scientific interest in the case.  
"So how many are changed already? How many not? How old are the unchanged ones? I'll need to prepare the serum accordingly, and to ensure - "  
Al-Aera raised a hand and cut him off.  
"These are not for your experimentation, Mr. Angstrom. These carriers are my own." he said, firmly. "There are eighty-nine altogether; fifty-seven of those are the young, unchanged. You may examine them when they arrive. The thirty-two others are viable now, and will be placed accordingly."  
"What about the kids?" Phidias asked, suddenly, in a quiet voice. "What will you do with the kids?"  
Al-Aera looked sympathetically at the pregnant carrier.  
"I will not separate a mother and child. The little ones go with their birthers."  
Phidias nodded, and looked away, to Henrik, who looked to Anthony and Everett.  
"Then I suppose - "  
"Ah, yes, and more than that," Al-Aera interrupted, turning to face Mahir again, "Ghali should arrive by then."

~:~

Aaron was just about to enter Harley's room when the curious man in the gray suit appeared again. Coming down the hallway, he spied Aaron Soyinka, raised and arm, and waved cordially.  
"Hello again!"  
Aaron waved shortly, uneasy for some reason.  
"Hello."  
The gray man drew closer and it became apparent that he was headed for Harley's room. Aaron met him at the door, and they stood awkwardly for a moment.  
"Sorry, do you mind if I just - "  
And with just a brief nod to Soyinka, the man slipped inside and shut the door. Aaron made to go after him, but it was locked. Uneasiness rose even further from his belly. He wished Sheridan were here, Sheridan with his better senses, his natural carrier awareness.

Shortly, the door unlocked and opened, and the man stepped out, looking as jovial as before. He nodded politely to Aaron, then disappeared down the hall.

Dreading doing it, but knowing it had to be done, Soyinka stepped forward and opened the door to the room. Harley was sitting up in bed, same as he ever was, looking out the window, and the worry dissipated from Soyinka's stomach.  
"Brought some of your things." he said, indicating the box as he entered the room. "But there was a very strange man in the hall - he came in here? The one in a gray suit? Do you know him?"  
Soyinka set the box on one of the rolling tables and began to scoot it across the floor towards the bed. Harley had given no answer.  
"Harley?" he repeated himself, gently - his friend had taken to wild mood swings lately, and Aaron did not want to upset him by pressing too much. "Harley?"  
Wheeling the cart closer, Aaron Soyinka got a glimpse of blood on the front of Harley's hospital gown. The dread fell back into his belly, full force, and he rushed to the other side of the bed, to his friend's face, shouting for a nurse.

Naturally, none of this made any difference. Harley Witterbaum was already dead.


	50. July 29 [Saturday]

It was hell being alone. Absolute, abject, abysmal hell.  
But there was nowhere left to go.  
They had all emerged from the cold, detached darkness of a government home to the smoldering embers of a home long gone.

Sean had been hit the hardest. His mother, father, brothers - all gone. Only he and Adrian and the baby now, and the Mackenzies. Sean was grateful to have them - glad that he was left with some semblance of support, but it was not the same. Will Mackenzie was not Ian Wick, and Ren wasn't June.

The rumors said his mother and brothers had been taken somewhere, were not dead as he'd feared, but he ached all the same.

Will Mackenzie came and stood beside him at the memorial site.  
"Thinking of going North." he said, casually, but with some expectance. Sean waited; his heart ached, his body ached. He resented Adrian for having so much and he so little. He resented his father for leaving him. He ached to go home.  
"North sounds good." he said roughly, his own voice failing him, too.  
"Better land up there." Will Mackenzie said, cryptically. Sean shrugged.  
"Need to find a doctor. For Ren and Adie."  
Will Mackenzie nodded, clasping his hands behind his back.  
"Find one in the north. And good land, too. Place to start over."

Sean stared off across the perversity of the expanse - there had been buildings here, and there, and their skeletons still stood, skinny and burnt and black. But the structures were transparent now - wind blew through frames and collapsing edges. He could see the trees through someone's house.

"Sounds good." he said again, for lack of anything better to say.   
Will Mackenzie looked at him, then off at the landscape again.  
"Well." he said, finally. "When you're ready. Car's waiting."  
And then he was gone.

Sean allowed himself fifteen more minutes with the body of his hometown; the carcass of his former life. There was no life in it now; no speckles of movement or distant, human noise or creation or destruction or rise and fall and waking and sleeping of a civilization. There was just quiet wind, blowing across the embers and towards the forest behind.   
There is no going back to that which has ended, Sean mused.  
There is no choice but to start over.

~:~

The big, gray bird took off from Union territory and landed in the A.W.N.S., carrying 137 passengers inside of it. Sheridan, who had never been in an airplane for so long before, squeezed Aaron Soyinka's hand and fretted nervously. Aaron, who usually enjoyed a plane ride, was on edge himself. The events at the hospital, the incident with James had put them both out of sorts. They had changed the dates on their tickets - they would move now, rather than wait past July. It had been expensive, but Aaron felt it had been worth it. The last thing they needed was to pack another box or read another paper or see another photograph of their friends' old lives. Once they had been cleared from police questioning, Soyinka and Sheridan had gone home, packed everything they couldn't stand to abandon, and taken the next available flight. The green hills of England would be a fresh start, Aaron had promised his companion. Things would be better in his homeland; they could have a house near the city, and better jobs for Aaron, and family nearby, and maybe new friends and a new life. And things were easier for carriers there, too - perhaps Sheridan could find a little job, some small freedoms.

They soared through the night, over the Atlantic, their old world growing ever smaller in their sight. Sheridan watched, through the window, until it was too dark to see anymore and the world fizzled away to ocean, human vision losing its grasp. Then he settled in, pulled the blanket closer around him, and leaned in to his husband's shoulder. Soyinka, sitting next to him, was reading quietly aloud from one of his volumes, trying to help Sheridan to sleep. He crossed a certain line, and Sheridan sat up suddenly.  
"Alright?" Soyinka inquired, worriedly.  
Sheridan blinked at him.  
"Yes, it's just that part. Read it again?"  
"And they were frightened," Aaron read in a rumbling, low voice. "And called him the most wild thing of all, and made him king of all wild things. 'And now,' cried Max - "  
Sheridan squeezed his arm abruptly, tightly.  
"Yes," he said, in a voice that was half-hysterical, half-reverent. "That's it. That bit right there."  
Soyinka furrowed his brow, his dark eyes looking bemused.  
"What's it?"  
Sheridan beamed up at his husband, his face bright even in the dim light of the cabin.  
"That's his name."  
It dawned on Soyinka, and he smiled.  
"The baby?" he asked. Sheridan nodded, frantically. "Max?" he asked, just to be sure.  
"Max." Sheridan confirmed, looking again out of the window over the Atlantic. "A wild, free thing."

~:~

Ghali's escort arrived before the shipment from Dothan did. Mahir, who had been lingering anxiously by every door and window since Al-Aera's pronouncement, was the first to spot the caravan.

Doubtless, Al-Aera had made certain of Ghali's safety as he traveled to Wafra. There were double the number of guards as Al-Aera had brought, and there were two decoy cars, intended to disguise Ghali's transport further. Anthony made Mahir wait on the steps with the rest of the group, preventing him bodily from rushing down to the car as the doors opened.

When Ghali appeared, the energy of the group became uncontainable. Little Anthony and Khalil broke rank first, almost tripping down the steps to get to their brother. Mahir went after them, ostensibly to keep them from hurting themselves, but really wanting to be the first to hug Ghali again. Henrik and Anthony tied, both heading into a run at the same time, and Tyson and Everett and the rest tagged behind. Only Caddy and Al-Aera remained on the stairs.

Ghali looked different - they all saw that immediately - but not much worse for the wear. His hair was braided neatly to one side, and veiled, and his eyes were darkened with kohl and his skin glowed a beautifully dark, sandy color from the sun and being rubbed with oils. New bands of gold were at his throat, his wrists, his ears. Ghali stepped out of the car, took one look at his family, all tumbling and rushing towards him, and started to cry tears of abject delight.

He looked up, then, wanting to see Wafra again, his childhood home, and caught sight of Al-Aera on the stairs. He averted his eyes immediately, and turned his attention to Khalil and Tony, who were clinging to his legs, and Mahir, who was hugging him desperately, and Anthony and Henrik, who were asking him rapid, demanding questions.

Eventually, the excitement calmed down, and Henrik ushered them all inside, including Phidias, who he scolded for having come out in the heat in the first place. Anders met them at the door and lingered at the edge of the group; he opened his mouth once, as if wanting to say something to Ghali, but then caught sight of Cadmus, and so shut it and went away again. Ghali glanced after him one time, but not again. Al-Aera led them into the dining room for lunch.

~

They all ate the evening meal together, too - wisps of celebration still lingered in the halls of Wafra, and so Henrik brought out more champagne and they feasted again. All the more reason to celebrate, he pointed out, now that Ghali was home.

Ghali blushed at this, and cast a furtive glance at Al-Aera, who looked unmoved, and then picked at his food again.  
"Ghali." At his husband's voice, Ghali's head jerked up again. "Eat." Al-Aera warned him.  
"I will." he answered hotly, under his breath. "Give me time, Azim."

Al-Aera grunted and turned away to refuse a glass of champagne; a eunuch brought him juice instead.

~

Late that night, while Al-Aera and the rest met regarding some minor business, Mahir snuck into Ghali's dressing room for a meeting of their own.  
"You can tell me the truth. Does he beat you?"  
Ghali looked at his carrier parent's reflection in the mirror and shook his head.  
"No. Not anymore."  
Mahir's belly hurt to hear such words.  
"We can - "  
"I'm fine, Mahir." Ghali interjected, gently. "I promise."

Mahir came closer, worrying at the edge of his sleeve. Ghali, sitting at the vanity in his room, had taken his veil off, and was unbraiding his hair. Mahir watched his son work on that for a moment - watched the elegant, flighty movements that Mahir had so meticulously taught him. He met Ghali's eyes in the reflection.

"I don't know that you are fine. I don't know how he treats you - what he does to you. Are you hurt? Are you suffering? In pain? Do you need our help? Do you want to come home? I don't know anything."  
Ghali smiled gently at the other carrier's reflection.  
"I'm not suffering. Azim treats me well." he picked up his hairbrush. "I have anything I want from him. He's a very good husband."  
"Are you pregnant?"  
This gave Ghali pause; he broke his rhythm with the hairbrush.  
"Not yet." he answered.  
"Then we can get you back, Ghali! He doesn't have proof if - "  
"No." Ghali interrupted his parent, firmly. "I can't come back."  
Mahir's heart broke, just a little, and he said, with more conviction in his tone,  
"Ghali, I can fix this! I know I can. Just tell me what you - "  
"Ma-ma." Ghali interrupted him again, pityingly, "It's too late." he said. "It's over."  
Mahir bit his lip, overcome with helplessness suddenly, and with sadness for Ghali. His eyes brimmed up with tears, and spilled over.  
"But you belong here, with us. It can't be over."  
Ghali set down his brush and turned from the mirror to face his parent. He reached out and grasped Mahir's hand in his own.  
"But I couldn't stay here forever, could I? I couldn't be your child forever." he shrugged, as if to shake his carrier parent's worries off. "I had to grow up."

The opening of the door startled them both, but Al-Aera took one look at the scene and bowed deferentially.  
"I'll go for tea." he said, and shut the door behind himself.  
Mahir turned back to Ghali.  
"Ghali, please. There are so many more opportunities for you. You can come with us, live here. Learn the sciences, perhaps travel. Go to school, even. Make something of your life."  
Ghali smiled indulgently.  
"I know that that's the life you wanted for me, Ma." he frowned, as if trying to decide how best to deliver unpleasant news. "But it's not the life I wanted for myself."   
There was silence, then Mahir asked,  
"So is this...what you wanted?"  
Ghali frowned again, sure of his answer but unsure how to phrase it.  
"No. But I have it. Maybe it's better for me, maybe worse. Who knows? But it's mine." he hesitated. "Sometimes, things change and can't be changed back. So this is it. This is my life now, whether we like it or not. I have a new family, a new job. I start again."  
Mahir felt tears brimming again, and took his hand from Ghali's to rub at his eyes.  
"I don't want you to start again. I want things to go back."  
Ghali just smiled, and stood to hug his carrier father.  
"I know." he said, gently, "But they don't."

~:~


	51. August 1

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Phidias perched on the edge of Caddy's bed, his bare feet pressed against the cool tile (for some reason, this technique seemed to help settle his stomach). From the other side of the room, Caddy shook his head. Phidias watched him.   
"It's clearly bothering you." Caddy shrugged. Phidias shook his head and got up to go over to where his son sat cross-legged on the settee. He took up a seat next to him, sitting close. "Come on, Buster. Talk to me."  
Caddy blinked at the floor, then turned empty, distant eyes up to his dad.  
"I messed up." he said, quietly, in a voice thick with disuse. Tears sprung to his eyes. "I really messed up."  
Phidias had no comfort for that, and so he pulled Caddy into a tight hug and let him cry.  
"Well," he said, when his son had cried himself out some, "hush."  
"I ruined Ghali's life." Caddy managed between sobs. Phidias stroked his hair where the thin veil was falling off of it.  
Phidias cast about for something to say - something which Caddy, astute for 14, wouldn't see immediately as a lie.   
"What's done is done." he settled on, not sure why. "We can only go forward."

Caddy cried harder.

After his tears were somewhat dried, and he'd drunk some of the water Phidias brought him, Caddy spoke again.  
"From now on," he said, slowly, turning the glass in his hands, "I'm going to be good." he looked up at his dad - for what, Phidias wasn't sure. Support? Confirmation? "I promise," he pressed Phidias, "That I'm going to be good."   
Phidias patted his shoulder.  
"OK, kiddo." he said, smoothing some of Caddy's hair back under the veil. "Then you be good."

~:~

Henrik lifted his hand to shield against the burning sun.  
"Looks like seven vans." he glanced over his shoulder at Al-Aera. "No protection?"  
Al-Aera inclined his head.  
"I assure you - they are better protected than any of us."  
Henrik grunted.  
"It will be hard on them, won't it? Being dropped into a new place, a new life?"  
Al-Aera squinted under the shelter of his keffiyah and studied the caravan as it drew closer.  
"Perhaps. But they'll manage."  
Henrik looked skeptically out over the landscape.  
"Will they?" he asked dryly.  
Al-Aera smiled quietly.  
"We'll all manage, Henrik." he looked out and gauged the approach of the vans again. "Life goes on."

Henrik did not protest this, and Al-Aera thought pridefully that he had said just the right thing so that there would be no response.

They lapsed into silence then, and for long moments just stood there, the two of them - each shielding their eyes and watching the desert, breathing the dust and biding their time while the sun rose overhead and the sand kicked up - each preparing for the next day in the dull heat of August.


End file.
